


Grounding Path

by Tasyfa



Series: Spinning Circle of Flames [4]
Category: Roswell New Mexico (TV 2019)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canada, Alternate Universe - Human, Canon Bisexual Character, Canon Disabled Character, Canon Gay Character, Guerin is a little shit, Light BDSM, M/M, do not copy to other sites
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-29
Updated: 2020-07-23
Packaged: 2021-01-06 03:43:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 16
Words: 44,702
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21220004
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tasyfa/pseuds/Tasyfa
Summary: The continued adventures of the musician and the engineer: they're in a relationship now. Everyone knows what they're doing and how they feel about it.Right?!





	1. Cake and Snark

**Author's Note:**

> I really didn't intend for it to take this long to kick off part three, sorry about that! But, here we go. 
> 
> Location notes at the end.  
~ Tas

* * * * *

"Raspberry and white chocolate cheesecake is my educated guess."

Michael sighed, but even to his own ears, it was more than half laughter. "I almost want to get something else just to be contrary but, yeah. That's my favourite." He nodded at the barista, confirming his choice. "What about you, what kind do you want?" 

Straightening from where he'd stooped to look into the cake case, Alex smiled at the woman waiting for his order, "Apple and salted caramel, please, and a mulled cider. Michael, you wanted hot chocolate, right?" 

"Oh, yes, with all of everything on it, please," he echoed the smile as the plates were placed on the bar. As she began to make their drinks, he asked Alex, "I can take the cake, get us a table? You bring the drinks?" 

"You frequently do take the cake, Michael." 

It took a second for the bitingly dry comment to sink in. "Just for that, I _am_ taking it, and I _might_ leave some for you." His offended sniff melted into a smile. "I'll be over in the Purple Haze corner, by Jimi." 

Alex's gaze drifted that way. "Yeah, I've been staring at the mural since we came up here." 

"I know," a touch of smugness infusing the comment. "See you at the table." 

With that, Michael grabbed both plates and headed for the corner, plopping down gracelessly. He hissed under his breath; sitting down hard enough to bounce hadn't been smart. Gingerly, now, Michael adjusted his seated position until he was comfortable. 

"How quickly we forget," Alex teased, placing the hot drinks on the table and sliding into the next chair. "It's your own fault, you know." 

Michael raised his eyebrows. "How is it my fault? You're the one who decided you wanted to celebrate being back home by pounding my ass until I couldn't see straight." At this hour, the majority of the patrons were on the first floor, eating dinner in the garden-themed restaurant section; upstairs, Michael and Alex had very little company in the café section, and the background music was enough to obscure their conversation. 

"Because," Alex smiled, pausing to sip at the fragrant, warm cider. For a minute Michael thought he was going to leave it there, but Alex continued, "On the subway up from Union Station, I was so tired that I figured I'd get in the front door, drop my bags, and maybe manage to say hi before I fell over. Then I got to the apartment, and there you were. I swear just seeing you was like energy by osmosis." 

"I do usually have enough to share," Michael admitted, feeling warm all over. "I didn't think you'd be awake long, either, but you managed a lot more than saying hi. Last night, anyway." 

"Yeah, this morning I drifted off while you were showering," Alex chuckled, but the sound was brief as he added, "Which seems to have been a problem?" 

"I don’t know if I'd say _problem_," Michael prevaricated. Not for the first or even hundredth time, he cursed his inability to keep his emotions off his face. "It took me by surprise, I guess, when I came out of the bathroom and you were dead to the world. I was, I think it was sometime during my second class that I stopped being irritated. Or, thought I'd stopped," he rolled his eyes, mostly at himself. 

"And I'm not sure I'd identify it as irritation," Alex said gently, "when it looks more like hurt to me." He gave a rueful smile. "I'm sorry, Michael. When I realised I'd missed you leaving, I also realised I'd made a mistake by initiating anything sexual this morning. I knew I was exhausted. But you were so sweet and playful, and I missed you, and I didn't think about it until later." 

Michael took refuge behind his hot chocolate while he figured out how to say what he wanted to. When he put the mug down, he took Alex's hand. "I need you to know that I know this isn't true, okay? I know it isn't. It's just that after last night - and I know we both passed out like immediately - but, after that, then giving you a little show before going to shower, and then finding you asleep... It kind of made me feel like what you'd missed was the sex. Not me." 

Alex nodded, "Yeah, that's what I realised later, and it really, really isn't what I was going for. I'm sorry it made you feel that way." 

"So Canadian, all the apologising," he teased with a soft smile that broadened when Alex laughed. 

"Hey, I can't help that! But I do take responsibility for my fuck-ups." He squeezed Michael's hand. "Next time, though, I need you to tell me sooner when something's not feeling right, okay? Preferably as soon as you're aware of it." 

"Okay, yeah," Michael nodded. "Sorry. I thought it was me being oversensitive, you know? So I pushed it off earlier. And then it kind of crashed back in now." 

"Michael, treasure, you live on the outside of your skin. That means you are sensitive. Naturally, beautifully sensitive, hm?" his smile was fond. "I might be the more experienced one in some stuff but I'm still learning how to navigate with you specifically, and I need your help with that." 

Something settled in him with the words and Michael simply smiled, ducking his head in response. 

"Good?" Alex enquired, still with that affectionate smile, and Michael nodded. "Okay, good. I have some pictures from my trip, if you want to see?" 

"Oh, yeah, of course. It was just you and your Air Force friends, right?" 

"Yep. The single ones, anyway. The married folks usually take their leave at Christmas, when they can. This year, a bunch of the non-marrieds decided to take leave earlier in December as a group, so me and a couple others who've been discharged could come visit." 

"It sounded fun when you were talking about it before, yeah. How much of your tired was hangover?" Michael teased. 

"Yesterday? None. Couple days prior, probably 98%," Alex admitted. He got out his phone, unlocking it and opening his photos. 

"Wait, wait, go back, minimise the apps?" That had looked like... Michael gasped out a laugh, covering his mouth with his hand when Alex showed him the wallpaper. "Oh holy shit, that looks really naked." 

It was a photo of Michael, shirtless in the sunshine on his terrace, face tipped to the warm rays. It had been cropped to just below his waist. Michael remembered Alex taking the photo and he knew damn well he'd had pants on, but it sure didn't look that way on Alex's phone. 

"Okay, I'm obviously outvoted, because my friends thought so, too, and gave me shit for pointing out the belt buckle. But, I mean, it's right there!" he tapped at the turquoise oblong that sort of blended into the icons at the bottom of the screen, in Michael's opinion. He supposed you could see his jeans there. The top edge of them. If you squinted. 

"I don't know what to tell you, man. It looks like a nude. I might be embarrassed if I were somebody else but that's fucking hilarious," Michael grinned. "I had no idea you were going to make that your wallpaper. Should I be preening or hiding in faux shame?" 

"Definitely preening," Alex reassured, running a fingertip down the centre of the photo. "They were just being pervs, wanting the full monty." 

"Gotta go to YouTube for that," Michael spoke without thinking, then winced at the sharp rise of Alex's eyebrows. "It's not, it's just... I kind of streaked at a football game. Or possibly a practice? I don't know, they were playing, and Max was here, being his usual pain in my ass self, and," he shrugged helplessly. "It seemed like a good idea at the time." 

He watched his photo disappear as Alex pulled up YouTube. "Team, stadium, date?" 

Michael provided the information, his attention shifting to Alex's face as he played the video on mute. "I didn't really get in trouble, it was just campus police, not actual cops, because it wasn't televised. But, well, people with phones." 

"This is so you it almost hurts," Alex finally opined. He looked completely delighted to Michael's great relief. 

"It is on brand, I must admit." 

"Do you mind if I share it? Not on Facebook or anything, just our private Discord server?" 

"Is that what you're always on, Discord?" 

"Yeah, I like it better than most for the privacy options," Alex began, and paused, likely having noticed the way Michael's lips twitched. He laughed. "Yes, fine, I'm predictable. So, do you mind?" 

"Nope. You can splash my dick anywhere you like." 

Only when Alex started full-on giggling did Michael realise what he'd said. He sighed. "Alright, maybe we'd better finish the cake and head to my place before I choke on my knees or something." 

That got him a thumbs-up from Alex, still giggling too much to talk yet, and Michael leaned back in his chair, feeling good, centred again, as he applied himself to the cheesecake to the sound of Alex's laughter. 

[end chapter one]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The boys are at [7 West](https://www.7westcafetoronto.com/). I don't know if they actually still have the enormous purple Jimi Hendrix mural upstairs - there's no mention on the website - but it was epic and I loved it. The café is iconic, especially for being 24/7, and it's also one of the places I always took vegetarian friends bc they could get actual meals, when that was much more difficult 20+ years ago. 
> 
> I did take liberties with the cake options, though. :D


	2. Feel the Pulse (beat beat beat beat)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one is for Christchex. Thank you for the song rec and the inspiration, babe *mwah*.
> 
> [Flesh - Simon Curtis](https://open.spotify.com/track/0kW7NQraFEyAhXqaE4cZG0?si=zWdRU8oiQ7eXrevHE0oh_A)
> 
> ~ Tas

* * * * *

As soon as the credits began to roll, Michael kissed Alex's cheek and disentangled, standing and stretching. "I think I'm gonna go for a quick run." He could see Alex trying not to laugh, and smiled at him, "What?"

"If stuff hadn't started blowing up, I think I would have finished watching the movie alone. You started twitching about twenty minutes ago." 

"I'll try to twitch less obviously in the future," Michael grinned. "You want anything while I'm out?" 

Alex shook his head, "Not while you're out." 

The repetition caught Michael's attention and he raised his eyebrows. "That sounds like you might want something when I get back?" 

The answering smile was demure and devilish simultaneously. "I might. Take a quick shower after then come join me in your bedroom, and we'll talk. All right?" 

"Works for me," he agreed easily, a little thrill shooting through him. Michael didn't bother changing; this wasn't going to be a real workout, just a short jog. He slipped into a hoodie and sneakers, grabbed his keys, and left Alex to whatever. 

The air outside was like a slap, making his eyes water. Bracing, Isobel would call it in public, and then bitch extensively in private. His sister could be creative as hell when it came to swearing about Canadian winter weather. 

Michael set off at a brisk walk, heading up Spadina. Queen West might be more interesting but that meant more pedestrians, too, and he wasn't looking to socialise. 

No, what he was looking to do was clear his head and burn some energy, so he didn't feel so much like he was going to vibrate out of his own body. There, the cold helped, the white plumes of his breath drifting into nothingness as he strode forward. 

He felt... off. Michael didn't know how else to describe it. He had most of the day. The little talk he and Alex had had in the café earlier had helped at the time, but the relief had been temporary, it seemed. 

The frustrating part was, Michael had no idea what the problem was. Alex was back, and Michael was over the moon about it, so why the restlessness? Ten days had felt like an eternity. Michael hadn't missed anyone like that since he'd moved north and found himself totally alone for the first time in his life. No family. No friends, although it hadn't taken him long to remedy that. 

Missing Alex made sense. But he was home now, so what the fuck was wrong with Michael? 

By the time he'd jogged off the worst of it, the cold had started to seep in despite his activity level and Michael returned to his apartment, peeling out of his clothes and turning the water on hot. 

The steam clouding the glass enclosure felt good, dissolving the lingering chill until his muscles felt loose and limber. It didn't quite make his skin feel like it fit properly but close enough he'd be able to sleep. 

Assuming Alex let him, anyway, and that had Michael's thoughts circling back round to this morning, to fingering himself open where Alex could see it, to the instruction to do it again in the shower, to continue periodically through the day; to keep himself available and ready to go at any point today. 

It was something they'd talked about before, a self-confessed fantasy, and he wasn't sure if he was supposed to keep on given Alex's apologies, but it seemed like the right thing to do and so Michael did, pressing wet fingers inside, delicately at first to let the water reactivate the lube, then a slow push and pull, gentle stretch, until his ass felt about as relaxed and ready as the rest of him. 

Towelling off enough to qualify as dry, Michael left the fan going to help dissipate the steam as he headed for the bedroom, naked. He realised over the short distance of the hallway that while he still felt off-kilter, nothing about this felt _wrong_, and the distinction mattered. 

He found Alex snuggled under the covers, faerie lights and one bedside lamp on, with his phone in front of his face. Which was exactly as expected and Michael smirked. "You really are predictable in some ways." 

"Good run?" Alex asked, sitting up. The duvet slid down, revealing bare shoulders and chest, and Michael's eyelids lowered to half mast, appreciating the view. 

"Yeah. Fucking cold out, though I'm warm again now. You reading?" 

Alex nodded. "Not for long. I was talking to Cameron for a while." He poked at his phone with a smile. "Here, you'll like this. The text she sent me earlier this evening: 'The short and curlies are cute, too. If you aren't currently looking at them up close and personal, pick up your phone and call me, dumbass. I'm home all night tonight.'"

"She kind of sounds like a less girly Isobel," Michael laughed. 

"Agreed. I think they'd either get on like a house on fire, or one of them would commit homicide within 24 hours."

"Wouldn't care to bet against either one."

"Precisely," Alex grinned. He put the phone on the night table and patted the bed. "You getting in before you stop being warm?" 

Sliding across to Alex's position, Michael pressed a kiss to his jaw. "Hi."

"Hi," he returned the greeting and leaned in to capture Michael's lips in a light, easy rhythm that deepened as Michael responded, until Alex encouraged him to lie down, moving to cover him. 

For long minutes, that's all there was: the intoxicating taste and feel of Alex's kisses; the comfort of his body weight. It felt good. Necessary in some way he couldn't define. 

Eventually Alex pulled back enough to murmur, "How're you feeling?" 

"Good. Mostly," he amended. "Still a little..." Michael let it trail off, unable to articulate what he couldn't name, but Alex was nodding so he obviously understood. 

"I know. This is what I want." Alex shifted so he could pull Michael's arm over his head, and again to repeat with the other side. He held Michael's wrists together with one hand, leaning on them as he spoke, his face close to Michael's. "I intend to explore and enjoy you. Touch, tease, taste; whatever I want. What I want from you is, honest reaction. No holding back. That includes orgasm - come when you need to. Just warn me so I don't get squirted in the eye or something," he smiled. 

Michael huffed a laugh. "Fair enough, yeah. Um, did you, did you not need me prepped then?" 

His brows knitted in confusion. "Did I..." Brown eyes widened as Alex clued in and hunger flashed over his face in a familiar expression that Michael felt in his toes. "_Michael_."

"I wanted to please you," he whispered. 

"You did. You do. I'm very pleased," Alex assured him before initiating another kiss, launching immediately into demanding this time. Michael opened for him; it was easy, automatic even, to respond wholeheartedly to the insistence of the tongue twining with his, soft moans flowing between them. 

At length Alex asked, "Will you be able to keep your hands where I've put them, or do you need to be restrained? I know you have some nice padded cuffs." 

"I'll be good," Michael promised. 

"Oh, you are, treasure. So incredibly good." The ready praise had Michael all but purring as Alex stroked his cheek. "Remember, yellow if you need a particular activity to stop, for any reason, and red if you need everything to stop, yeah? Going back to basics a little here." 

Michael frowned. They hadn't been together all that long, objectively, couple of months, but it had been pretty intense during that time and he knew the ropes. Tentative, he ventured, "I don't know that I need to ---"

"I need to," Alex interrupted. Which was both completely valid and not something Michael had expected. 

"Oh. Can I, is there anything I can do?" He rolled his eyes as soon as Alex began to repeat the instructions he'd just given in an exaggerated tone. "Yes, I know, I was listening, I've got it. I meant besides that." Michael offered a small smile. "I want you to get what you need." 

That earned him a smile, followed by the answer, "Just be you." 

"Me?" he scoffed, about to protest when Alex kissed him. 

In between kisses, Alex murmured, "Yes. Uninhibited, open-minded, no filter, Michael. You." 

"When you put it that way..." Michael left it there, letting it go in favour of tilting his head back as Alex began trailing his mouth along Michael's throat. 

Relaxing into Alex's touch was easy. He sighed at the kisses; held still and moaned at the bites. The way Alex dragged his teeth over Michael's skin made him shiver, not knowing when or where the next bite would come but anticipating it nonetheless, moving with Alex to grant him whatever access he wished. 

With every mark Alex made on his body, Michael got a little foggier. By the time there was a line of hickeys following the curve of one of Michael's hips, he'd let go completely. When the other hip matched, he trembled under every new touch, stomach quivering at the light caress of fingers along the line of hair there. 

He couldn't hear Alex really, though, not with that sinful mouth against Michael's skin and the steady stream of Michael's own noises. Michael pulled it together enough to ask, "Talk to me?" The words dissolving into whimpers as Alex licked over the head of his cock. 

"Talk to you, hm? I can't talk and suck, Michael, you'll have to make a choice." 

"Talk," Michael insisted, clear on what he needed. A blowjob was a blowjob but listening to Alex was, well, Alex. There was no contest. 

"Then talking it is," Alex agreed, although he punctuated that agreement by swallowing Michael down and pulling off slowly, setting Michael back to whimpering before Alex finally moved, seeming to leave the bed entirely for a moment then returning to stretch out level with Michael, dark eyes on his. 

"I'm right here, treasure. Bring your arms down, okay? I want to put you on your side and it's not going to work with your arms up there." 

Michael did as he was told, rolling onto his side facing away from Alex, welcoming the arm slipped under his neck, bent elbow allowing Alex to flatten his palm against Michael's chest. The warmth of Alex's chest against his back. The light rub of fabric against Michael's bare ass; he hadn't even noticed Alex was still in his underwear. 

And then he promptly forgot about it as Alex's other palm, cool and slick, wrapped around Michael's cock and began to stroke. Firm grip, slow rhythm, and a clear confirmation of the earlier instructions not to hold back. 

"Thank you," he murmured, and Alex chuckled. 

"Shall I tell you a story? One you've heard before, so you don't have to pay too much attention. I know that's hard right now," Alex sounded like he was smiling. "Once upon a time, there was a boy who lived by the ocean. His family worked on the high seas and he thought he would too, when he was big enough, but then the boy discovered he got seasick. He decided he would go away to school instead, and learn to fly." 

Michael did know this story, although he'd never heard it simplified in this way, almost like a children's book. But the sparse language and soothing cadence allowed him to let the words wash over him, less meaningful than the sound of Alex's voice, equal parts affection, amusement, and desire. Every so often it would dip into hunger, a direct response to Michael's moans and the way he squirmed, hips thrusting ever so slightly in place as Alex's hand moved on him, until the tide became unstoppable and Michael shuddered in release, held fast in Alex's arms.

Pure instinct had Michael reaching down to wrap his fingers over Alex's, preventing him from letting go of Michael's cock, and he felt the rumble of quiet laughter against his back. "You're in that zone, aren't you, treasure? Feels too good to stop even if it's so strong, it's almost too much, almost pain." 

Michael nodded, shivering at another rumble of amusement, and then that clever musician's hand set back to work, less gently now. The message was clear: Michael could come again, but on Alex's terms this time. 

It very nearly was too much, the insistent demand in the new rhythm, the possessive squeeze, and now teeth scraping his shoulder, the harsh sound of Alex's breathing a low counterpoint to the whine issuing from his own throat. Alex shifting the hand on his chest to flick his thumb over Michael's nipple, again and again, the sensitive flesh hardening under the repeated attention. 

He didn't know how long it took; he wasn't sure he even got hard again, not truly, but it didn't matter as Alex sank his teeth into the meat of Michael's shoulder, biting down hard to keep Michael in place as he jerked in the multi-point grip, brought to the orgasm he'd asked for. 

When Alex shifted like he was going to disengage, Michael was reminded they were 0 for 2 and while he was by no means keeping score, he also didn't like the idea of Alex going without. Especially not when Michael was ready for him. 

"Ale - Ale - le - Alex," he finally got out, smiling at the fond laugh. 

"That -x gets difficult, I know." 

"Yes," Michael agreed. It did get difficult to pronounce when he was so far under, when his loquaciousness disappeared into something far more primal. The darkened library of his neocortex knew that fricatives were often the last sounds to be achieved in child language acquisition precisely because they were difficult, the data stored there from long-ago textbooks and psychology classes. He had no access to those facts right now, only to the physical reality that was Alex's body against his, and the need for something else - something he'd been waiting for all day. 

"Alex," it came easier this time, "ready." 

"Ready?" he queried. "Ready for what, treasure? Sleep? Can't say as I'm surprised." 

The level of frustration that Alex hadn't immediately understood did surprise Michael but he tried again, "Not sleep. Fucking." Way easier to say than sex. 

A disbelieving laugh. "You're not serious." Michael turned his head to try to look at Alex, and Alex shifted to let him, their eyes meeting with a jolt. Michael couldn't help the smile as those eyebrows rose sharply. "You are serious." 

"Prepped for you," Michael told him, as if that explained everything, and maybe it did because Alex's face softened.

"God, Michael. Okay, give me a sec." He pressed a kiss to the point of Michael's shoulder and gently moved back and away. 

Michael heard him shimmy out of his underwear, and the sound of rummaging in the bedside table, then Alex was pressed against his back with a knee sliding between Michael's thighs, opening him, his cock pushing inside. 

It was perfect. Michael didn't care that there wasn't a hope in hell of him coming again; that wasn't the point. He was an offering, a vehicle for Alex's pleasure, and he took a great deal of satisfaction in the short, sharp thrusts and breathy moans that formed his world. 

Especially when he felt Alex stiffen, the hand pressed to Michael's abdomen flexing in place, and then a long, rasping groan before his hips slowed and stopped, his whole body relaxing against Michael's.

"Good," Michael murmured, smiling when Alex laughed. 

"Good doesn't begin to cover it, treasure. Not even close." 

[end chapter two]


	3. Blooming Conditions

* * * * *

Wow, that was purple.

Michael twisted to try to get a better look at the shape of it, but there was only so much he could do to see the back of his shoulder without a hand mirror or similar to aim at its reflection in the bathroom mirror. 

Still, he didn't need the detail to know that Alex had given him one hell of a bitemark, along with myriad other, smaller marks. Those, he'd mostly discovered in the shower, all the extra sensitive spots on his skin as he'd washed. 

Standing around nude was starting to get cold, though, so Michael dressed and ended up sprawled on the couch, drinking coffee and making his way through a stack of papers he needed to grade. Last assignment for this class before exams and he wanted to get them back quickly so they could be used for study guidance. 

His research took a back seat to his teaching duties this time of year. More grading, more exam prep assistance, extra office hours. But that worked in his favour this morning, because he wasn't confined to the lab. Michael could grade papers anywhere. Like his own apartment with his boyfriend still asleep in his bed. 

He didn't know how long he'd been at it when Alex appeared in the doorway, blinking at the brightness as he paused, leaning on his crutches. "Morning." 

Michael let out a soft whistle at the total lack of clothing. "Well, hello. You're a braver man than I, wandering around in the altogether this time of year." 

Alex snorted. "I'm sticky, not brave. Must have moved over after you got up." Michael didn't hold back the laugh and Alex rolled his eyes. "Yeah, yeah, hilarious. I changed your sheets. C'mere, give me a kiss." 

It took Michael next to no time to carefully put down the half-graded paper in his hand and cross the room, offering his mouth to Alex for a sweet, languid taste, slipping his arms around Alex's waist to hold him close. "Thanks. I'll make fresh coffee. Do you want a cooked breakfast?" 

"Mm, no, toast is fine." 

"You and toast," Michael laughed softly. 

"I like toast. It's warm and uncomplicated." The grumpy tone told Michael to drop it. 

"Would you like me to put your clothes in the bathroom, so you don't have to freeze your ass off after the shower?" 

"That'd be nice, yeah. Thank you." Now it was the note of pleased surprise that guided Michael and he pressed a quick kiss to Alex's cheek and stepped away, entering the bedroom as Alex moved down the hall. 

As expected, the bed was painfully neat, a little rolled up bundle with sweat pants on the outside of it on the night table where it wouldn't interfere with the precision of the bedcovers. Michael knew better than to tease about leftover military habits but he did make a mental note to untuck the sheets some when he went to bed so he didn't end up feeling strangled. 

Reaching the bathroom shortly after Alex, he deposited the bundle on top of the hamper and closed the door behind him on the way out, leaving Alex to his privacy and focusing on getting coffee and toast ready for him. 

Then he picked up the paper he'd been in the middle of and dropped back onto the couch to finish grading it. This time when Alex came into the great room, Michael glanced over but otherwise paid him no mind, giving him space and quiet. 

Michael was a few papers farther along when Alex came to sit beside him. "You were thoroughly absorbed until a couple of minutes ago. Time for a real break, maybe?" 

"How'd you guess?" Michael put the paper down and stretched. 

Alex grinned. "Wasn't a guess. Your leg started bouncing." 

"Betrayed by my own body," Michael heaved a dramatic sigh. 

"Well, bring that body over here," he patted his thighs and Michael moved, swinging one knee over to settle astride Alex's lap. He smiled as Alex slid one hand up his T-shirt, cool against Michael's back. "How's it going?" 

"Good. Really good. A little sore in places," he smirked, "but, like, smoothed out, if that makes sense." 

"It does, and I'm glad to hear it." His palm skimmed over Michael's back. "That was more the kind of thing I should have done yesterday morning." 

"Oh, hell, no," Michael refuted. Alex recoiled, surprised and maybe a little defensive, but Michael needed to be clear and he continued, "Yesterday was my jam-packed day. No way would I have been able to do the necessary life stuff if we'd done something like that first." 

After a long pause, Alex sighed, "Point taken. I wasn't thinking of that just now. I was yesterday; that was why I didn't want to do anything heavy at the time." 

Michael wanted to run his fingers along one sharp cheekbone, dip to catch the corner of full lips, coax them upwards, but he knew Alex didn't like having his face touched so he settled for looping his arms around Alex's shoulders. "I appreciate that you did think about it. And maybe it wasn't the best time for what we did do, or maybe it didn't matter what we did or didn't do then anyway, because the option I needed was off the table until nighttime, and I needed it to stay off the table until then. A paradox." 

"Paradox," Alex echoed with a small smile. He still looked... Guilty, Michael decided to name the expression, and he wasn't having it. 

"You know, you didn't do anything wrong. It's like you said at the café last night, we're still learning about each other. We'll both make mistakes. And, I know it pains you to hear it, but you're not perfect." He paused, watching Alex's eyebrows rise and pull together, his lips purse as if to hold in a smile. Dark eyes warmed with the faintest hint of amusement. Michael plunged on, "I like you all the better because you aren't perfect." 

"I see." Alex had both hands on him now, wrapped over his sides, thumbs absently stroking his ribs. "You've got me all figured out, eh?" 

"Not completely, obviously, but I am a professional student and I know how to study. Especially my favourite subjects." Michael offered a cheeky grin. 

Now Alex laughed. "Wow, I'm right up there with the math. I feel special." 

"You should," Michael agreed, relief trickling through him at the positive response. Being so honest about something sensitive was always a risk, even if Alex took it better than most. Now that the air had been cleared of the important stuff, he could bring it back to a place where they were both happier hanging out. "You should also know, regardless of whether it was the best thing to do at the time, yesterday morning was, um, really hot." 

"Oh?" His tone coaxed, _tell me_, and his gaze sharpened, his full attention on Michael. It hit Michael like a drug almost, the sense of Alex's total focus; it was an addictive feeling and one he didn't want to fight. 

"Yeah. You watching me like that; I liked it," he whispered. He saw a flicker in the way Alex was looking at him and one hand dropped away from his ribs, exiting his T-shirt to cradle his cheek instead. 

"You're blushing." 

"I'm..." he trailed off into a frustrated sound, and Alex laughed. 

"You keep being surprised because you're still thinking of it as solely about embarrassment. But as you keep telling me, you don't get embarrassed." 

"Right," Michael agreed. 

The other hand dropped and Michael let out a whimper when long fingers cupped his crotch, squeezing lightly. "It's a sexual response for you. You're turned on, not embarrassed." 

"That much I can tell," he rolled his eyes. "But I don't get why." 

"Do you need to know why?" Michael just gave him a look and Alex chuckled. "Right, sorry, stupid question to ask a scientist engineer. How about an experiment, then? Data gathering exercise." 

"An experiment?" Michael asked doubtfully. He couldn't think of anything suitable. Granted, his brain wasn't doing its best work while he was on his boyfriend's lap being held by face and dick, but still. 

And then he wasn't, as Alex moved his hands to shove Michael's track pants and boxers down as far as they'd go, making him gasp as cool air hit bare skin and his half-hard cock sprang free. 

"Jerk off for me." 

"What?" Jesus, he felt slow to connect the dots Alex was providing. 

"You heard me. Jerk off, right here, so I can watch. Here," Alex took his right hand, pulling it to rest palm up in front of Alex's chin. "I'll even help ease the way." 

It shouldn't be that hot, hearing the familiar sound of hawking, the throat-grinding effort to produce a lot of saliva in one go. But it was, with Alex's eyes hot on his, that contact unbroken save for the few seconds it took Alex to make sure of his aim as he spit into Michael's hand. 

"Do it." 

Michael carefully lowered his wet hand and did as he was told, rubbing the saliva over his cock, fully erect by the time it was coated. He licked his lips, an automatic move that he noted caught Alex's attention, and Michael exhaled shakily. It was incredible, what Alex could make him feel with a mere look, and with that at the forefront of his mind, Michael began to stroke. 

"Good boy," Alex murmured and Michael shuddered in response, squeezing involuntarily and making himself moan. He saw the greedy shine appear in Alex's gaze at the sound. "Exactly like that." 

"Yes, Alex," he replied, and then left words behind in favour of soft moans and sighs, intensely aware of the constant travel of that gaze over his body, alternating focus between Michael's hand on his own cock and Michael's face, lips parted to allow the escape of his noises and cheeks he could _feel_ flushing bright at the attention.

When Michael started to get close to orgasm, Alex gripped his hips, the heels of his hands pressing against the lines of bruising, and Michael whimpered, unprepared for the addition of a small, sweet pain into the mix. He sped up, chasing ecstasy in earnest now, and Alex tipped his head forward a little, his total focus on Michael's cock in a way that made Michael dizzy with the need to show him. 

Just as his body began to tense in readiness, Alex moved one hand, grasping the bottom edge of Michael's T-shirt and wrapping it over the head of Michael's cock, elegant fingers clamping the fabric in place. The firm touch made it impossible to hold anything back and Michael cried out, shaking in release with an intense dark gaze locked back onto his face. 

The spasms seemed to go on for a long time, Michael continuing to stroke himself in pure obedience, if gently now. He was lost in Alex's eyes, in the heat and approval and affection there, and he didn't actually stop until Alex's hand slipped to cover his, stilling the movement. 

"God, you're beautiful," Alex breathed, and leaned in to claim a kiss. 

When he pulled back after, Michael smiled. "It's attention. Your attention, or at least a subset of it. Making me blush," he explained, highly aware of how warm his face was yet. "I could narrow it down more, with more experimentation, although an objective observer would probably help because my brain kinda goes offline when you start looking at me like that." 

The grin Alex gave him was possessive enough for Michael to feel it in his toes. "I can't even tell you how much that conclusion pleases me." 

"Your face is giving me a pretty good idea," Michael smirked. 

He laughed. "It probably is at that. So, let me ask you, is a third party observer an idea you'd want to play with? For actual data, or just for fun? To be clear, this is a hypothetical question right now. I'm curious, is all." 

"That wouldn't bother you? Being sorta public ish?" Michael asked, surprised. 

Alex shook his head. "It's not the same. My thing about public is consent based. That wouldn't be an issue with someone we'd negotiated with to scene with us, obviously, as consent is an explicit part of the negotiations. It's like the difference in making out at a play party versus on the streetcar." 

"Okay," Michael drew out the word, elongating the final vowel. "That requires some mental rearranging because I thought it was, like, other people in general. But it isn't, so, I need a minute to digest that before I can even think about how I might feel about having someone else there, you know?" 

"Take all the time you need. Like I said, it's a hypothetical." Alex punctuated the statement with another kiss. "Now, you should go change your shirt and we should both get back to work." 

"About that. Could you do your stuff sitting on the couch? Like, if it's not gonna fuck up your back or anything?" 

A puzzled frown greeted the question. "I could, yeah. Why?" 

Michael shrugged, suddenly nervous. "I was just thinking, like, every time we've talked about me kneeling for you, we end up agreeing that neither of us can see me sitting still long enough for either of us to benefit from it. But, um," he chewed on his bottom lip, "I have to sit reasonably still to grade papers, so, there's no reason I couldn't do that on, like, a cushion on the floor in front of the couch while you do your consulting work."

"It's a good idea," Alex smiled, though his brows had drawn together. "You'd kind of be in the way if I wanted to get up, though." 

"I know. But, I mean, I've got a sheaf of papers, a hardback lab notebook for a writing surface, and a pen. It's simplicity itself for me to shove over if you want up. And," he shrugged, one-shouldered, "if all you want is a coffee refill or whatever, I can do that for you." Michael almost kept the next bit to himself, feeling like it might come across as manipulative rather than sincere, but it was how he felt, so he put it out there. "Please let me do for you." 

A brief flash of surprise and then a sweet smile gave Michael his answer before Alex even spoke. "All right, treasure. You get cleaned up and I'll get set up over here, and you can keep me caffeinated." 

"Thank you," Michael murmured, pressing a grateful kiss to Alex's cheek before awkwardly getting to his feet, trackies around his hips. He smirked at the once-over Alex gave him, inordinately pleased with how his day was going. 

Maybe it wouldn't do anything for him or Alex, Michael sitting at his feet. Foot. Whatever. But it felt like the right move, anyway, and if nothing else, he'd gotten Alex to agree to let Michael look after him, at least for today. 

Michael considered that a victory. 

[end chapter three]


	4. Unconscious Gratitude

* * * * *

Michael had fidgeted and changed position several times over the first fifteen minutes or so, trying to sit on the cushion in a way that was comfortable but also allowed him to physically write on the papers without it being a strain. Once he found the perfect setup, he settled quickly and sank into his task.

The track pants Alex had on were soft, the fabric warm where his cheek rested against the inside of Alex's knee. The knot in the section of empty pant leg below that knee, Michael had tucked under his armpit, out of the way. He could see what he was doing, and he could easily deposit the paper at hand onto the Done pile on the coffee table, pulled close so he didn't have to stretch to reach. 

As far as Michael was concerned, it was the best way ever to deal with undergrad papers. 

He'd been up and down a couple of times for coffee and snacks but the last time had been a while ago now and he was hyperfocused, text crisp and meaningful on the page, the marks and comments coming easily as he worked through each paper. 

"Michael." The hint of exasperated amusement in Alex's voice alerted him it wasn't the first time his name had been said and Michael put his pen down, twisting to glance up at Alex. 

"Sorry, I was in the zone. More coffee?" 

Now it was pure laughter. "No, it's about the inevitable after drinking all that coffee." 

Bathroom. Right. Michael grinned, responding in action. He untangled himself from Alex's leg and pushed the coffee table back to free his own legs and give Alex enough space to stand, then rolled to the side and onto his knees, pulling the cushion out of the way and laying the in-progress paper and accoutrements on top of it. Next he grabbed the crutches leaning against the end of the couch and passed them to Alex, holding on to the bottom ends of them until Alex had a grip on the handle ends. 

"You were right. That was fast," Alex smiled, though there was an odd note within the obvious approval that Michael resolved to ask about later. Now, he simply took a bow from his kneeling position. 

"I aim to please." 

"And you do," the praise seeming to come easy as Alex stood and began moving away. 

Michael took the opportunity to stretch, in place first then standing and bending to touch the floor, feeling the pull of muscles stiffened from sitting too long. He kept his hands flat and bent his knees, doing a few pliés until the tightness in his hamstrings released. 

When he straightened, Alex was stood nearby, openly watching him. Michael smirked. "See something you like?" 

"Could be," Alex allowed. He pointed his chin at Michael. "Come here." 

He went, smiling. With both hands occupied, Alex couldn't grab him but Michael knew what the beckon usually meant and he stopped very close, chest nearly touching Alex's, and tilted his head, lips parting in readiness. 

Alex chuckled, "I'd call you presumptuous, but..." He leaned forward, capturing Michael's mouth. It started gently enough, Michael opening for the press of a clever tongue, stroking it with his own. Then the kiss deepened and he let out a soft moan, his arms stealing around Alex to bring their bodies together, feeling Alex shift his weight to lean against him. Michael encouraged him, palms spread over the warmth of Alex's back, more than happy to brace and keep them both upright so they could keep kissing. 

Eventually Alex leaned back a little, breaking the kiss, and Michael's eyelids fluttered open to see a small smile that again, he couldn't quite identify. He asked quietly, "What was that for?" 

"Just for being you," and Michael nodded, feeling his own smile want to slip. He controlled it, maintaining his expression, and let go since it seemed like Alex was steady enough to stand. He didn't move away, though there was space now, with nobody leaning. 

Not as subtly as he'd hoped, as Alex frowned. "Hey, now, what's that about? You don't like that answer anymore?" 

"I don't dislike it. It's just, vague, and weird." And uncomfortable to talk about, which was why he hadn't intended to say anything. 

"Okay," Alex spoke slowly, nodding. "Vague, I can understand. Weird, not so much. Would you explain, please?" 

It was a genuine question, a request, and Michael hadn't expected that. Alex would have been within his rights to demand an answer - the rights Michael had given him - but he wasn't. He was asking. 

Somehow that made it easier. "I can try. The vague, I think is obvious, and maybe that feeds into the weird. It's just, um," he floundered a little, searching for a way to express his thoughts that was perhaps less of a blunt instrument than his usual style. "I think I told you before, you're a party of one with that kind of compliment, so it's weird, and being so vague kind of makes it feel like a-a stock answer, you know? Like a yes dear type thing." 

"I see. So it was kind of funny to begin with, when we were just starting to get to know each other, but it feels different now that we do know each other better. Is that fair to say?" 

"Yeah, I think so." Michael bit his lip. "I'm sorry, I didn't really notice the change in how it felt. I think I'm still, like, extra sensitive to everything after you were away." 

"Me, too," Alex admitted. He made an aborted gesture, the movement blocked by his crutch, and emitted a small frustrated sound. "Let's, let's sit down, okay? I want to be able to touch you." 

"Of course, yeah." He moved out of the way to let Alex get situated, laptop shifted to the table and crutches back to their lean on the end. Then Alex patted his thighs and Michael slid gratefully onto his lap, needing the contact. A boat they both occupied, going by the speed with which Alex put hands on him, one on Michael's hip and the other cradling his cheek. 

"Listen, Michael, I... It is a stock answer. It's unique to you, I mean, it's not something I've said to anyone else, past or present. But it is a generic comment that I use when I... Well, when I'm having feelings and don't know how to articulate them." He looked down, those extravagantly long lashes concealing his eyes. 

Michael was stunned. "But you're always so good at saying what you ---"

"What I want," Alex interrupted. "Yes, especially sexually. Kink taught me that. It wasn't a quick or easy lesson, believe me, and I'm still learning. But with emotions, it's more complicated, and I'm... I'm not very good at it." 

"Oh." Turning it over in his head, it made sense to Michael, and granted additional context to some previous discussions. "Can I help?" 

"Can you... oh, Michael," he chuckled, and okay, that made less sense but it seemed to be a net positive as Alex pressed a light kiss to his lips. "Could you accept that at face value, do you think? That it really does mean I appreciate who you are?" 

Michael was considering it when his face apparently answered for him because Alex nodded, his smile going lopsided. "Maybe if I try to explain today, that would help?" 

"Okay," Michael agreed, curious and relieved. He didn't want it to bother him, but it did, and Alex knew it now. 

"Okay." Alex took a deep breath. "Um, after breakfast I went and did my exercises before I got the computer out. You were very much in the same kind of zone as just now," he smiled briefly. "And I was just, frustrated. With myself. Travelling always takes it out of me for a few days and I _know_ that, I expect it - plan for it, even - but, um, it still pisses me off to have the reduction in function. And then you just, you," he shook his head, looking at some indeterminate point over Michael's shoulder, and cleared his throat. His voice was rough when he continued, "You cuddled up without even thinking about it and that made everything, I don't even know. Better." 

Turning his face into Alex's hand, Michael kissed his palm, lowering his own gaze out of respect for what he could hear beyond the words. It seemed strange, almost, to be praised for something that had become so ingrained for Michael that he truly didn't think about it, but it obviously meant a lot to Alex, and he understood that. 

"Anyway, I was feeling kind of shit before that, and expecting it to get worse because that's how it goes, and then you were just, you know, you were _you_, and it wasn't shit anymore." He laughed a little. "And that's what I meant. You can see why I used a catch phrase."

Michael had to smile. "Yeah."

"Are you more comfortable with it now, or do you need me to stop saying it?" 

Michael was quiet a moment, nuzzling into the hand on his cheek as he thought it over. He liked getting the full explanation, but did he need it? Or was the generic compliment fine now that he knew what lay behind it?

Instead of answering immediately, he countered with a question. "That was hard for you, wasn't it?" 

Alex sighed, admitting, "Yeah. Harder than usual, because anything related to my injury just is, but it isn't a walk in the park for less fraught topics." He blew out a breath. "I've been criticised for being emotionally distant or unavailable before. Cold. I do have feelings, obviously, but it’s difficult for me to express them. Probably inversely proportional to how easy it is for you," he concluded with a soft laugh. 

The quip brought forth an answering laugh from Michael. "Inversely proportional is a good way of looking at it. The other part is complete bullshit. You aren't especially verbal about it is all." 

"I guess, yeah." He didn't sound too sure and Michael wasn't going to push it. He'd inadvertently touched on a real sore spot and the best option for now was to let it go. 

"I'm pretty good with your body language but you had an expression I didn't recognise and that's why I asked. So I think, I'd be fine with the generic answer in most instances, if you agree to give me extra context when I need it? Which probably won't be that often, I mean it took this long for it to actually bother me," Michael felt his way through the decision aloud. 

"I can do that. Or I can damn well try, anyway," Alex agreed, a hard note in his voice that Michael knew was self-referential. He didn't take it personally. 

"In that case, might I suggest noodles?" 

"What?" 

Michael grinned, lifting his gaze to see confusion had replaced the rawness. He repeated, "Noodles. As in, I'm hungry and I want to go to the noodle house around the corner for one of those great big bowls of soup. I think I remember what you got last time, if you'd rather I got takeout?" 

The way Alex's face brightened was worth a lot of awkward conversations. "No, I think it'd be good to get outside. Give me a few minutes to change and we can go for noodles." 

"Cool." He shifted back and off the couch, moving out of the way so Alex could reach the crutches, watching as he stood. Michael hadn't noticed the more pronounced stiffness in his movements but he could see it now and resolved to pay closer attention. Though to be fair, with the exception of the café and working alongside each other this morning, most of their time had been spent in bed, and Michael knew he wasn't capable of paying this level of attention when Alex had his hands and mouth all over Michael's body. It simply wasn't happening. 

As Michael pulled his boots on, he wondered if, after food and finishing their individual work, he might be able to convince Alex to extend the permission to let Michael take care of him into other avenues, even if only for today. 

He intended to find out. 

[end chapter four]


	5. Picture Perfect

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was damn near meditative to write, at least to a point. ;-)
> 
> For mythras_fire. There's a line you'll recognise. :D  
~ Tas

* * * * *

Noodles a distant memory, Michael finished writing comments on the paper in his lap and deposited it on the coffee table. He went to take the next one from the To Do pile, surprised into looking up when his palm met wood.

"I'm done. Holy shit." 

Above and behind him, Alex laughed. "Looks like. Were you not expecting to finish by tonight? I thought that was the goal, no?" 

"Well, yeah, but usually it would be later, like, actually tonight, because I would have gotten distracted by something else. Possibly several times," he admitted. 

"I see." There was the sound of typing then a click as Alex closed the laptop and set it aside. Surprised, Michael tipped his head back, encountering an upside-down smile. "Up." 

He huffed a laugh, rising to his feet and stretching first. "Man, please don't say that, makes me feel like the family dog." 

"Noted," Alex agreed, echoing the laugh. "Come here, then." 

"Gladly." Michael slid onto his lap, thighs bracketing Alex's hips. He settled easily, the position familiar and comfortable, thinking absently that he spent a lot of time in it. "You don't need to keep working?" 

"No, the project deadline isn't until next week and I'm ahead of schedule already. Plus, I work on billable hours, so as long as I keep track, it's all good." 

Michael bit the inside of his cheek to prevent himself from speaking. This close, Alex couldn't fail to notice and his eyebrows arched skywards. "Don’t even, Michael. I can see that train of thought trying to leave the station. Billable hours and paid by the hour do not connote the same thing." 

"You said it I didn't," Michael exhaled in a rush before cracking up. He could see Alex's patient half smile, waiting out Michael's giggles. When he'd calmed some, Michael pressed a swift kiss to that smile. "I'm sorry, it was funny." 

"You're a brat," Alex declared, without heat. 

Michael made a noise of disagreement and grinned at the expression daring him to contradict the statement. He didn't approach it head-on, choosing to offer an alternative instead, "I'm warm and uncomplicated. Like toast." 

It was Alex's turn to laugh and Michael watched, his own grin intact. 

"Something else, is what you are," Alex said at length and Michael nodded. That, he could agree with. 

"Hey, so, are you hungry yet?" 

Alex shook his head. "Probably won't be for a while yet, considering we stopped by your favourite bakery after the noodle house. Why?" 

"I was thinking, I'm a little stiff after sitting so long, and you probably are too, especially after the train journey. I could maybe give you a head-to-toe massage? A nice one, not like the sports massage at your PT appointment," he winked. 

"A nice massage, huh? Is that code for X-rated?" he teased. 

Michael smiled, giving a small head shake. "Not unless you want it to be. I mean, you might want a nap after, or a blowjob, or whatever, right? Whatever you want." 

"Whatever I want, hm?" Alex leaned in to brush a soft kiss over his mouth. "Hard to resist that, coming from you." 

"I was counting on it," he smirked, making Alex chuckle. 

"Alright, where are we doing this? Bedroom?" Michael nodded, prompting Alex to continue, "You go set up, then, and I'll be there in a minute." 

"Okay." Carefully Michael shifted back and stood, moving the crutches to lean on the couch in easier reach before leaving the room. 

The first thing he did was to get out the space heater and turn its fan on, aimed at the bed. Then he stripped the bedcovers, all except the bottom sheet, laying a terrycloth bath sheet down the centre of the mattress. That would absorb any excess oil and it would also stay warmer than the fitted sheet alone. 

Oil set to one side, Michael undressed down to his underwear and got a mellow playlist going on his phone, plugging it into the little speaker on the night table and adjusting the volume as Alex came through the door. 

"Nice," he smiled, looking around at the set-up. "I have to admit, this is more elaborate than I was expecting." 

"It's just a big towel. I use it for the beach, so this time of year it's pretty much guaranteed to be clean," he grinned. 

"True." Alex sat on the edge of the bed to undress and Michael left him to it, moving the space heater farther back and turning it off. He could give them another heat blast later if necessary. 

When Alex was shifting onto the bed fully, Michael requested, "On your back, please." 

He acquiesced, stretching out in the middle of the towel, arms out to the sides. "This okay?" 

"Perfect." Grabbing the small brown bottle, Michael climbed up and straddled Alex's upper thighs. Not so different from how he'd been sitting a short while ago on the couch, he thought as he poured about a teaspoonful into his palm and rubbed his palms together, warming the oil. 

"You weren't kidding about head-to-toe," Alex observed, and Michael smiled as he opened his slick hands to drag them up Alex's torso, leaving him glistening from belly to collarbone. 

"Nope. Limbs I can do once you've flipped, so I'm just going to do your chest and stomach and then you can turn over and relax." 

"If I do fall asleep, I'll need you to set an alarm for twenty minutes or thereabouts. Any nap longer than half an hour and I'll be a complete bitch when I wake up," he warned with a smile. 

"Only when you wake up?" Michael enquired with exaggerated innocence, fluttering his eyelashes. He watched Alex roll his eyes but continued before Alex could speak, "I'll set an alarm if necessary, yeah." 

"Thank you." 

They both fell silent as Michael smoothed his hands over Alex's skin, coating him in a thin layer of the oil, just enough to ease friction. Then he began the real massage, starting at the upper chest, pressing the heels of both hands into the front of the shoulder joint and gently working at the tense muscle there. When he felt it loosen, Michael moved on, inching across to the other shoulder to repeat the process. 

After shoulders and collarbone came pectoral muscles. He neither targeted nor avoided the nipples, treating them like any other patch of skin, though he did catch the soft sound Alex made. 

Next, ribcage, and the complex strips of muscle nestled alongside and wrapped over bone, his fingers careful where there was less padding. 

Michael shifted back, sitting lower over Alex's thighs. He flicked a glance at Alex's face: relaxed, slight smile, eyes closed. Exactly what he'd hoped for. 

Abdominal muscles now, and then hips, paying particular attention to the joints again, where pelvis gave way to thighs. Beautiful thighs Michael reluctantly had to move off of. Quietly he requested, "Could you turn onto your front, please?" 

"Uh-huh," was the mumbled reply and Alex did turn over, flopping gracelessly onto the towel. Michael waited for him to wriggle around and smiled when Alex went still again, clearly having achieved a comfortable position. 

He checked anyway, "Ready?" 

"Uh-huh," he repeated in a long sigh. Michael chuckled and stopped asking questions. Instead he moved into position, knees either side of Alex's ribcage, leaning forward to get at his shoulders. 

It was always going to be the spot that took the longest, held the greatest tension, and Michael worked diligently, displaying a patience he didn't have for many things. But the warmth and slip of Alex under his hands was addictive, as was the tangible accomplishment of each knot unravelled, the small tightness gone smooth under the gleam of oiled skin. 

Once the whole area felt relaxed to his questing fingers, Michael moved on to the left arm, working over the rounded upper to the sharp point and soft inner flesh of the elbow, shaping the long forearm muscles. Wrists and hands, attending to each finger, the connective webbing in between, the base of the thumb. The same treatment on the other side, leaving both arms softly bent to frame Alex's head, comfortable for Alex and out of Michael's way. 

He wasn't sure if Alex was asleep or not; his breathing was slow and even, but that was equally a marker of deep relaxation. Twenty minutes was about what it would take for Michael to finish from here so he'd check in then, wake him up if necessary to keep it under a half hour nap. 

Astride Alex's thighs again, Michael spread a layer of hand-warmed oil across the surface of his back, and began to work just under the upper shoulder sections he'd done first, focusing now on the winged bones of shoulder blades and the wedge of muscle in between that research had told him was prone to tightness for people who typed a lot. 

Then smoothing down towards Alex's waist, the small of his back, another tense section requiring focused attention, manipulating with the pads of his fingers and the side of his fist, digging lightly until the tension released. Michael kissed each of his own thumbs and pressed the kisses to the dimples there, unwilling to risk disturbing the relaxed, sensuous mood with his mouth but wanting a moment to appreciate the view. 

Hips and buttocks next. Michael knew, intimately, just how hard these muscles worked sometimes and he took care, hips especially, to massage out every last little hint of tightness. 

Left leg, same order as for upper limbs, the soft underside of the knee drawing another thumb kiss. He even managed a decent job on Alex's foot, knuckles into the arch and sole, before needing to move on. 

A quiet chuckle sounded from above. "You really don't like feet." 

Michael laughed. "I told you that the night we met. One of my squicks for sure." He had his hands on Alex's stump now, familiar territory he didn't need to pay much active attention to anymore; his fingers knew where these knots would be. 

"Oh, I know. It just doesn't come up often and I think it's funny I'm 50% less squicky than the average human for you." 

"You are," Michael agreed easily, moving steadily up Alex's thigh as they talked. "Wasn't sure you were awake still." 

"Mostly, yeah. Well, mostly I feel liquefied," he chuckled. 

"Good. Mission accomplished," and they both laughed as Michael finished, sitting back on his heels with a hand on each of Alex's thighs, on either side of his own legs. He couldn't deny the appeal of the location, or the shift in his thoughts now he'd completed his self-appointed task. But this was about what Alex wanted, and to that end he ventured, "So do you want to sleep? I can set the alarm?" 

"You almost sound disappointed." 

"No, no, it's whatever you want, right? I'm fine," he refuted hastily. 

"Mm. Tell me what you're thinking. Convince me I'll enjoy it more than a cat nap." 

A nervous chuckle escaped Michael. They hadn't talked about it before, not in terms of Alex receiving, but... "I'm thinking I want to eat you out, for as long as you want me to, then when you're ready to come, you can just tell me to get out of the way, so you can flip over and I can suck you off." 

A soft sound, surprise and something else Michael couldn't identify by ear, and then Alex shifted enough to grab a pillow and hold it out to Michael. "It's been a while, but we'll both be happier with my hips elevated. You can use mouth and fingers, no toys, no hands." 

Fingers but not hands? The instruction confused Michael for a minute then his eyes widened. "You mean no fisting. Or quasi fisting, anyway." 

"Yeah," the amusement totally audible. "And before you ask - because I know you and questions - yes, I have been fisted before, and it's a topic for another time." 

"Okay." That at least was clear, and while Michael was endlessly curious, he'd learned that Alex would talk about stuff in his own time, and not before. It was something he envied a little, the ability to park an idea or discussion topic and actually come back to it later. Michael could park things, but he rarely remembered to retrieve them later, whereas Alex never seemed to forget. But all that meant here was, Michael would forget and Alex would bring it up when he was ready and they'd talk. 

He encouraged Alex to raise his hips, getting the pillow situated and his dick safely tucked away. "Comfy?" 

"Uh-huh." It wasn't quite as relaxation slurred as the previous such utterance but it was in the neighbourhood still. 

With carte blanche to touch now, Michael ducked down to press his lips to those lower back dimples, one after the other, enjoying the freedom to do so. When he straightened up, he uncapped the oil and tipped some into his palm, flipping the cap shut and setting the bottle well out of the way. 

Instead of palm to palm, he rubbed the oil onto his fingers. Body safe and food safe, it made good lube for this, where it didn't matter it wasn't condom compatible. 

Michael did, occasionally, plan ahead. 

He used warm, slick fingers to spread Alex's cheeks apart, letting his thumbs drift over the ring of muscle, nice and accessible with the angle of Alex's hips. Michael hadn't avoided the cleft here during the real massage but neither had he lingered and he intended to now, the pads of his thumbs exerting light pressure as he massaged in circles round the edge of the ring, watching puckered skin flutter at the touch, seeming eager, almost. 

A quiet moan drifted to his ears, making him smile. Alex had clearly shifted into sex rules for noises, away from massage rules where all Michael had really heard was louder than standard exhaling. He didn't pretend to understand all the different types of rules Alex had for different situations; he just navigated them as best he could. But the moan was good, because if this went anything like he hoped it would, Alex was gonna get loud.

Michael slid one finger into Alex's body, gently, in stark contrast to how he usually did it on Alex's orders. But slow and easy felt right, continuing the mood set by the massage, deepening it with an added dimension of pleasure. 

Soon, though, Michael withdrew his hands altogether and adjusted his own position, bracing on knees and elbows, hands going right back onto Alex's ass, spreading him apart, thumbs pressed to the sides of his hole. And then Michael began to lick. 

He used the flat at first, sweeping over the entire area, everything he could reach with one long drag of his tongue. And again, and again, waiting, listening, until the strangled sounds Alex made said, _more_.

Firming his tongue into a point, Michael focused on the ring of muscle, prodding at the sensitive skin, feeling it catch at him, greedy. When he'd covered the full 360 with aggressive licking, more in line with Alex's usual preferences, the sounds coming from his boyfriend were near constant and his hips rocked ever so slightly in place. 

Now, now he started to tongue fuck Alex, thrusting past the rim of his hole to get inside, feeling the clutch and quiver of muscle grabbing at muscle and pushing past it, over and over, settling into a rhythm. 

His hands weren't idle, either, the fingers of one hand continuing to massage around his busy tongue. With the other he reached down, cupping Alex's balls and gently rolling them in his palm, then reaching with his thumb to press against the perineum, massaging here, too. 

Now that he had everything in play, so to speak, Michael concentrated on using his tongue, switching periodically between rimming and fucking, thoroughly absorbed in giving Alex as much pleasure as he could. Judging by the increasingly heavy breathing and escalating moans, it was working, and he lost himself in the act happily, knowing there would be a clear signal when Alex needed him to do something else. 

The signal, when it came, surprised Michael. A low whine that built to a quiet crescendo. His body recognised it first, pleasure shocking unexpected down his spine, and Michael realised a moment later what it was: the sound Alex made when he was about to come. 

"Fuck. Move!" he bit out and Michael pulled off immediately. As soon as he saw which leg Alex was lifting to turn over, he ducked under the raised thigh and grabbed Alex's hips, helping him shift. 

His hands were still there, Alex's ass not quite yet flat on the towel, when Alex gripped Michael's hair and yanked him down, feeding Michael his cock, thrusting up erratically as soon as Michael's mouth was in place. Michael let him, let the frantic need wash over him as Alex fucked his mouth, the feel of it blissful on multiple levels. 

It didn't take long, his swallow reflexive and inevitable, and then Alex relaxed, panting, his grip loosening but his fingers still threaded through Michael's hair, his cock still a heavy presence in Michael's mouth. Michael could feel his eyes watering still from the sudden stretch and he welcomed it, beyond pleased with everything.

He didn't move until Alex let go and applied gentle pressure to the underside of his chin, urging him up. Michael slowly allowed Alex's softening cock to slip from his mouth and raised his head, grinning at how hard Alex was still breathing. 

"Cut it close, huh?" 

Alex chuckled, "Oh, I did, treasure. I did indeed." 

Michael allowed his tone to veer into the most smug he'd ever sounded - which was saying something. "Well, you know, there are some advantages to dating a bi guy. I've got tongue stamina, too." 

That cracked him up. Michael watched him, smiling, and thought to himself that he wanted to frame this moment and hold it in his memory forever: Alex, sated, sheened with sweat and massage oil, laughing in his bed. 

It was the kind of image dreams were made of. 

[end chapter five]


	6. Reverb

The phone rang as Michael dropped clumps of brown sugar onto the steaming bowl of oatmeal, and he carefully adjusted the spoon to a horizontal position before dipping a hand into his pocket. He glanced at the screen before answering; Isobel. "Hey Iz, what's up?" 

"Good morning, Michael. I have something to give you. Are you home now? And does everybody have pants on?" 

He laughed. "Just me, and yes, I'm fully dressed. About to eat, actually. I need to get going to class in twenty, twenty-five minutes, though. You coming up now?" 

"Yes, I'll come now and I won't keep you long." 

That didn't sound ominous, exactly. More like she was on a mission, which, well, could get ominous for Michael if she decided to drag him into it. All he said aloud was, "I'll unlock the top door, then." 

He hung up after exchanging goodbyes and sprinkled a little more sugar, pleased with the dark brown melted pools on the surface of his oatmeal. He didn't always have the patience to wait for the sugar to do that so the sisterly interruption had been well timed. 

When Isobel breezed in, Michael was happily alternating between mouthfuls of coffee, bites of banana, and spoonfuls of luscious molasses-y oatmeal. 

"Oh, gross, you still do that? How can you stand it so sweet?" she asked, screwing up her face. 

Michael pointed his spoon at the banana slices. "Hey, I've graduated to adding fruit instead of chocolate chips. I'd call that progress." 

"Ugh, it's still disgusting," she shuddered, taking a seat across from him. "But your juvenile diet is not why I'm here." 

"Okay, why are you here?" He smirked when she rolled her eyes. Walked into that one. 

"I'm here, because Maria and I were talking about you." 

Oh shit. "In what context?" he enquired cautiously. 

Isobel sighed. "So, last Sunday when you were over, you were... excited, about Alex coming back from his trip, and having entrusted you with his keys so you could be, like, a welcome home party of one." 

"Yeah? And?" Now he was wary, putting the spoon down in favour of cradling the coffee mug with both hands. 

"Relax," wincing at the sharpness of her own tone. It didn't exactly incline him to follow the verbal instruction.

"Izzy, spit it out. Do you have some problem with me having keys to Alex's apartment?" 

"No, no," she refuted instantly. "I don't, honestly. It's just, Maria and I were talking, like I said, and I realised that I have a set of keys that I keep in my office downstairs, as your landlord, and I have a set at the house as your emergency contact, and they're weird, expensive security keys so you can't just make yourself another set." 

"I'm aware," and mildly irritated about it, but it was what it was. 

"Good." She nodded brusquely, then opened her handbag, withdrawing a small, oblong brown envelope. It clinked loudly when she slapped it down on the table. "These are for you, to do with as you see fit." 

He pulled the envelope to him, untucking the flap at the short end to peer in and confirm the contents were, indeed, a full set of keys. Michael didn't know what to say. 

"I don't want to gatekeep your relationship, Michael." Isobel sat stiffly, clearly uncertain of his reaction. "You chewed me out a few weeks ago for sticking my nose in where it didn't belong, and you were right. And I don't want to be an obstacle. If you don't give Alex keys because you don't want to, that's fine, that's your decision to make. But if you don't give them to him because you can't, because I'm in the way, well, that's just not acceptable. So, so now I'm not in the way." 

Michael rose to his feet and came around the table, wrapping his arms around her. Isobel relaxed into the hug, her hands coming up to press against his back, a soft giggle escaping her that almost sounded teary as he told her, "I love you. Thank you." 

"I love you, too," she sighed. "I'm really looking forward to meeting him this weekend." 

He tensed. "You're not expecting to be able to talk about this, are you? I mean, that's only two days from now and you only just gave me ---"

"Michael." Isobel gave him a good squeeze then pushed him away so she could see him. "The entire point is that those keys no longer have anything to do with me. They are yours, to distribute or stick in a drawer or, who knows, make art with, okay?" She gave him a sly smile. "Unless you lose them, because then it's coming out of your security deposit." 

That, finally, let him relax and return her smile. "Obviously." 

"Obviously," Isobel echoed, pushing to her feet. She tilted her head, giving him an appraising look. "If you want to talk to me or Maria about it as your family, you can, you know that, right? But we won't ask, and providing that copy is the end of my landlord obligation." 

"I know, Iz. I will if I need to." He kissed her cheek, and she smiled and left. 

Michael went back to his breakfast, finding he needed to microwave the oatmeal a bit, then fiddled with the keys with one hand while he ate with the other, deep in thought. 

He had a feeling he'd be thinking about it for a while yet. Alex's apartment had come furnished. His clothes and electronics, plus his guitar, were the bulk of his possessions, and most of that went with him when he travelled. After years in the military, he was highly portable. 

Michael's apartment was his home. He'd designed and filled the space, and everything in it was his, bar the appliances. 

It was a different decision altogether, and he wasn’t ready to make it yet.

*

Come Sunday afternoon, the little envelope of keys shoved into the kitchen junk drawer wasn't even on Michael's radar anymore. He was far too busy fidgeting and fussing about bringing Alex to Isobel and Maria’s for dinner.

"Simmer down," Alex told him for what had to be the umpteenth time. The repetition was starting to show, an edge to his tone that hadn't been there before these past two times, and Michael incorporated pissing off his boyfriend into the untidy tornado of worry in his chest. 

"I'm sorry, I'm just gonna," he gestured at his torso and went back into the bedroom to change his shirt. Again. 

Alex followed him this time. "Michael, _I'm_ the one they're going to be evaluating. Why the hell would it matter what you wear?" 

"I just, I need to," he replied, distracted by rifling through his closet. It was still pretty well organised, less than six months since Isobel had gone through it with him, but nothing looked right. 

Nothing said, _I'm worthy of this man_. 

He heard Alex sigh behind him and it was an oddly decisive sound, unusual for a sigh, until Alex also spoke. "All right, Michael. Take your jeans off and kneel on the bed." 

"What?" Now was not the time. He needed to find the right shirt in this stupid fucking closet. "No, I need ---"

"Michael." 

The hard tone froze Michael in his tracks. He whipped around to find Alex in front of the bedside table, with the drawer open. Michael opened his mouth, about to finish his protest, and closed it again when one eyebrow went up. 

This time, it wasn't mere steel. All of the customary warmth had been siphoned out of Alex's voice, replaced by implacable will. "I won't tell you again." 

Michael realised he had a choice, and he needed to make it fast. He could say no - safeword out of whatever Alex was planning. 

Or, he could trust his boyfriend. His dom, though he didn't typically think of him that way, even if he knew it for truth. He could trust that Alex knew his limits, wouldn't push Michael past them, and would give him whatever aftercare he might need. 

Michael took off his jeans. 

Nude from the waist down, he knelt on the bed with his back to Alex, unsurprised at the hand in the centre of his back telling him wordlessly to get down on his hands. 

When he was situated on hands and knees, the next touch was the one he expected: slick fingers rubbing at his hole, one pressing inside almost immediately. It felt good, despite his lack of certainty that he wanted it, but he didn't not want it, either. Michael was confused. 

The swift addition of a second finger pulled forth a soft moan, Michael's head dropping low. He felt Alex stroke his hip with the other hand, crooning, "That's it, focus on my fingers," and Michael did, feeling every slow push in, each sweet glide almost out, rocking with Alex's hand, pleasure building until suddenly, the fingers pulled out altogether, replaced by something a little bigger, the gently rounded tip of the toy easing the way. Then the plug was seated fully, flange pressed to puckered skin, and Alex withdrew his hands. 

"Sit up and turn around." 

Not so cold but not normal, either, and Michael obeyed, getting into the specified position as Alex opened a small box Michael knew. 

"Alex..." 

Dark eyes bored into his as Alex held up Michael's favourite cock ring. "Do you need to safeword?" 

He really thought about the question. They weren't anywhere near any of his defined limits. The ring, he liked because it had two parts, one that went around the base of his cock and the other around his balls, holding them proud. He'd confessed he liked the way it felt, like he was on display, knowledge Alex had already used in other ways. 

The butt plug would be invisible, dressed; the effects of the cock ring, less so. The streetcar ride would be fine; nobody was seeing nothing underneath winter layers. Once they got to the house, though? Jeans and an untucked shirt would only hide so much. 

But, that would be just Maria and Isobel. Family. Safe. Besides, even if they did notice, it wasn't like it would be the first time either woman had teased him about popping a boner. They wouldn't know it was induced, rather than the free-sprung variety. 

His wayward mind supplied the headline, Free Willy, and a strangled giggle escaped, garnering another raised eyebrow. 

"No," Michael shook his head, adding for perfect clarity, "no, we're green." 

"Thank you." 

Alex kept eye contact as he wrapped a hand around Michael's cock and worked him to full hardness. It felt intimate, connected, even if Michael couldn't quite read the intensity there. He didn't want to moan and disturb the hushed feeling, almost like falling snow, releasing shaky breaths and nearly silent sighs instead. 

When Alex did eventually look away, it was down at his hands. He put the ring on, rolling it down the shaft to nestle at the base of Michael's cock, pulling it this way and that until he was happy with it while Michael focused on breathing. Then the second half and Michael whimpered. He caught the hint of a smile at the sound, those long fingers carefully arranging his testicles, the touch delicate though the ring itself was sturdy. 

When Alex was finished, he straightened and pressed a kiss to Michael's temple, murmuring, "Good boy." 

Relief swelled in Michael's chest and he sagged against Alex, nodding as he listened to the quiet instructions to tell Alex if anything started to feel off and what code words they could use to keep it private. Michael repeated back the code words and what they meant, once for the complete handful and a second time for the alarm Alex was setting now on his watch, Michael's cue to remove the cock ring himself in the bathroom if they were still out, so it wasn't on long enough to be dangerous to his health. 

With the instructions clear, he received a soft, sweet kiss, the sense of care settling deep, and then Alex stepped back and held out a hand to help Michael onto his feet. 

"Get your jeans on, treasure, and let's go see your sisters." 

[end chapter six]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, I absolutely did that to my oatmeal as a kid. No, I don't do it anymore! Tooooo sweet now lol.  
~ Tas


	7. Devil Like You

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title is from the song, Devil Like You [Gareth Dunlop].
> 
> Meant to mention at the end of the previous chapter, the cock ring is [this kind](https://www.lovehoney.co.uk/product.cfm?p=34635). Do I actually need to tell anyone that link is NSFW???
> 
> Also, the timer. When Viagra first became available over-the-counter, there was a lot of obnoxious advertising, with the warning that the pill taker should seek medical attention if their erection lasted more than four hours. Sheer repetition embedded the time frame in my brain. Alex, being a conscientious sort, wouldn't want to get anywhere near that time limit, ergo, he set an alarm.   
~ Tas

*

"Ready?"

"Why wouldn't I be? Like you said, you're the one being evaluated," Michael replied petulantly. 

"Right." There was the vaguest hint of amusement in Alex's expression as he glanced at Michael. "Are you going to sulk all day?" 

"Maybe." 

"Suit yourself." He obviously wasn't bothered and it irritated Michael. It wasn't a façade, either: Alex wasn't holding any extra tension in his body. His very unruffledness had Michael gritting his teeth. And inventing vocabulary, apparently. 

Maria opened the door to Alex's knock and beamed at him. "Alex! Welcome to our home. Won't you come in?" She took his hand and drew him inside just far enough to give him a hug and motion at him to give her his coat. 

"Thank you. Something smells amazing," he smiled as he handed it over. 

"Michael said you didn't have any dietary restrictions so Isobel decided she wanted a big ham. You will be taking leftovers home," she laughed. "Michael, gimme your coat too, hon." 

He did, submitting to the usual hug and kiss. And the hair tousle, which made him roll his eyes. "Hi, Mare." 

"Oh, someone's in a mood! You look tired. I'd say go have a nap but I'm guessing you want coffee," no censure in her voice, her smile intact as she beckoned both men to follow her. 

It pulled a genuine smile from Michael. "Yes, please. You know me so well." 

"Of course. What can I get for you, Alex? We have beer, wine, various spirits, juice..." she trailed off as Alex waved a hand, chuckling. 

"Coffee is fine for me, too, please." 

"I'll make a full pot then, and you boys can let me know when you need more." 

"Deal," Alex agreed easily, and Michael nodded. 

"Okay. Iz?" she addressed her wife, who was checking the contents of the oven through its glass front door. 

Isobel straightened and turned a brilliant smile on them, taking the few strides necessary to put her in range to offer her hand. "Alex, so lovely to meet you." 

"You, too." He shook her hand. "Maria was just telling us what smells so good." 

She was pleased, Michael could tell. It was all very standard but everyone was being so damn sincere. He hung back, letting them talk about the specifics of the meal to come while he stayed by Maria. 

"Your sister isn't going to bite him, you know," Maria said quietly.

"I know," sounding unconvinced to even his own ears. 

"Or are you worried about him biting her?" 

"I don't even know," he admitted. "It's non specific worrying." 

"Well, I think you can trust us all to behave like grown-ups." 

"Speak for yourself," he smirked. 

Maria laughed and rolled her eyes. "Make yourself useful and get two mugs down." 

He did as he was told, placing the mugs on the counter by the machine. 

"Michael? Come on, we're going to sit in the living room. Maria will bring your coffee when it's ready," Isobel called as she escorted Alex out the other end of the kitchen. 

"Coming," he raised his volume a little so she'd hear him, then smiled at Maria. "Okay by you?" 

"Of course. Isobel might cook on occasion but I am the beverage queen, even when I'm not at work," she winked. 

"Gotcha," he chuckled. "Alex takes his black." 

"Thank you for the info." She shooed him after the others, and Michael went, finding Alex on the couch and Isobel in the closest armchair, going to his sister first to kiss her cheek hello.

"That's a nice long sweatshirt, Michael. Nice colour, too," she added, pinching the faded terracotta fabric of the sleeve. 

"Yes it is, and no you can’t have it just because you’re tall," he smirked, and she smacked his arm, shaking her head with a smile. 

"Jerk. Text me where you bought it." 

"Alright." He pulled his phone out of his back pocket and sent the text, sliding the phone back before perching on the couch near Alex, far more cognisant than usual of where his legs were in relation to each other, and where the bottom edge of his shirt was sitting. He'd about come to the conclusion he was going to have to sit primly, not in his customary sprawl, then decided fuck it and dragged the folded throw from the back of the couch, shaking it open and draping it over legs and lap. So there. 

Isobel took it at face value. "Coffee will help warm you up, too, in a minute." 

"Yep." He didn't elaborate further. It wasn't like he was going to announce that the problem was, he could feel the pressure of denim holding his cock against his belly. 

"So, I'm going to be a great big cliché, Alex, and ask you what it is that you actually _do_ as a cyber security consultant?" Isobel asked with a disarming smile. 

Alex laughed but paused before answering to take the mug presented to him, Michael taking the other one and murmuring, "I told her black." 

"Thank you," he offered a smile that encompassed Maria and Michael both. Maria waved it off and sank into the other armchair; Michael simply nodded. 

"Um, so you probably know what cyber security is already, but if you strip it right back, it's about preventing unauthorised access to data within a repository. What kind of data, what kind of repository, who needs to have what kind of access, those can all get really complicated, but the core principles are the same. And the consultant part, that just means I'm self-employed, same as you are," he pointed his chin at Isobel. 

"Do you work on a project by project basis, then? For me, obviously each project is a wedding, and my assistant project manager, so to speak, is usually the bride." To Michael's surprise, she looked genuinely interested. That wasn't her, 'I'm being polite', smile. 

"Yeah, that's it exactly. And for some of the same reasons as you, I'd imagine. If a company wants to upgrade to a new system, say, and they want to make sure all of their ducks are in a row before it goes live, that's where I come in. And I'll have previously done a similar upgrade for a different company, so I know what to expect. Roughly," he grinned. "Even when the system is the same, the experience is not, as I'm sure you know." 

"Never," she agreed, matching his grin. "I have a few venues I work with a lot, where I know the options and staff pretty well, but I could plan five weddings in a row at the same venue and they'd still be totally different." 

"Right? And your catering packages would be something like my software package expertise," he kept going but Michael tuned them both out, distracted by the throb of want in his body, the result of listening to Alex talk, the way he gestured when he spoke, how pleased he sounded to find this unexpected common ground. 

Michael focused on his breathing, trying to ignore the urge to rub his crotch under the blanket, just to get some relief. It was like the sexual equivalent of having a cluster of mosquito bites. You knew better than to scratch but fuck if you weren't dying to anyway. 

"You're being awfully quiet there, Michael," Maria addressed him.

"Huh? Yeah?" he blinked at her, having missed what she'd said before his name caught his attention. 

"Everything okay?" Oh God, now Isobel was watching him, too. 

"Fine, yeah. This is a get to know you thing is all, and I already know everybody in the room." 

"Michael," Alex began, and that was three people giving him attention he really didn't want at this particular moment. 

"I'm gonna get some air," Michael announced, standing with the blanket in hand, dropping it on the couch only once he was sure his sweatshirt was tugged down. He caught the twitch of Alex's mouth out the corner of his eye and refrained from glaring, electing to flee towards the back door instead. 

"Take one of the ponchos," Isobel yelled after him. 

"Yes, Mom!" 

He heard her scoff. "Honestly, I don't know what's gotten into him today. He's in such a mood." 

Then Alex, with an explanation that was definitely not the whole truth, "He said he didn't sleep well, so he's probably tired." 

He was, a little, but mostly Michael was losing his goddamned mind because of what had literally gotten into him, and gotten wrapped around him, by Alex's elegant hands. 

Feet jammed into his own old snow boots, kept here for exactly this purpose, he pulled a polar fleece poncho off the row of hooks in the hallway and yanked it over his head, exiting into the yard. 

The sudden silence was a relief. It didn't stop the metaphorical itch to touch himself but the solitude removed the pressure to manage his expression, voice, mannerisms to seem normal. Because he didn't feel normal. He felt breathless and horny and one step away from begging Alex to fuck him. 

The cold helped, though. The pristine whiteness of yesterday's snowfall covered the grass and trees, muffling sound. Not that there was a lot to begin with, on a Sunday afternoon. A car starting nearby, engine sputtering to life; a dog barking for a couple of minutes until someone shushed it and brought it inside. Distant traffic noise. 

By the time Maria poked her head out, Michael had regained his equilibrium. 

"Y'okay for some company?" 

"You're good, yeah," he beckoned her onwards and she stepped outside, similarly attired in boots and a fleece poncho, holding an insulated travel mug she passed to him when she reached him. 

"Fresh cup. You've been out here about fifteen minutes, didn't want you freezing." 

"Thanks." He sipped at the hot drink gratefully. "You didn't need to come after me, though." 

"Oh, I know. I'm escaping the enthusiastic discussion about taxes." 

"Taxes?" Michael queried, his eyebrows shooting upwards. 

"Yep," Maria chuckled. "Isobel finally has someone to complain _with_ about the pain in the ass that is filing income tax for the self-employed. I think she's giving Alex her accountant's details." 

"Wow," he exhaled forcefully. "I gotta admit, I never thought about the overlap there." 

"I don't think any of us did. But they seem to be having fun having a good old bitch session." 

Michael couldn't help but laugh. "So what you're saying is, I may have created a monster." 

She bumped his arm with her shoulder. "Maybe, but isn't that a better outcome than all your catastrophising?" 

"Oh, yeah," he agreed. He swirled the mug, staring at the opaque lid like he'd be able to see the liquid slosh if he concentrated hard enough, and confessed quietly, "I don't know why it was freaking me out so much." 

"Well, you know, the last person you brought over here specifically to 'meet the family' was Joanne. Did you realise that?" 

"No," he shook his head, surprised. "Really? Fuck, that was a few years ago." He thought about it. "I guess there hasn't been anyone, like, special enough to introduce to Izzy." 

"Your sister can be a challenge. She's never going to not be protective of her baby brother, you know that." 

"I know." He slanted a glance at Maria. "A challenge, huh? You married her." 

"Yeah, but I like a good challenge," she grinned. 

"Fair enough," he conceded. 

"So Alex is special." 

It wasn't quite a question but Michael answered it anyway. "I know it maybe seems fast, but ---"

"Mm, no, sometimes you just know. The amount of time doesn't matter. It's about how you feel." 

He'd known Maria would get it, and gave her a warm smile. "Yeah." 

"What's special about him, then?" 

Not as easy to put into words as it was to feel. "I guess, the way he treats me? He doesn't get on my case about me running my mouth, or being emotional, or anything. Like, not to go all Bridget Jones, but he likes me as-is and makes sure I know it." 

"Ah, see? Watching rom-coms with us wasn't a total waste of your time," she giggled, then squeezed his arm. "That's really great. How about your rubber ball days, how is he with those?" 

"My what now?" 

"You know, when you're bouncing off the walls like one of those little hard rubber balls." 

He snorted a laugh. "How flattering. Uh, he's alright with that, actually. Kind of, gives me an anchor point and a direction, and leaves me to it." 

"Grounding you. Like how you talk about circuitry, right? Making a safe path for the energy?" 

"Yeah," in startled agreement, and Maria laughed. 

"I do actually listen to your babble about your research, you know. I can't always follow along, but I listen." 

"Yeah, no, I know you do, Mare." He held the travel mug out of the way and gave her a one-armed hug. "I'll be in in a minute. Thanks again for the coffee." 

She returned the hug, holding him tight for a moment. "Okay, cowboy. We've got about 45 minutes til dinner so you've got time for a cat nap if you come in soon." 

He thanked her and watched her go, thoughts whizzing around in his head. 

A safe path for his energy. A redirect. Often channelled into a physical outlet. Time in the gym; going for a run. 

Sex. 

"I'm an idiot," he told the nearest tree. That was exactly what Alex had done this afternoon, preventing Michael from stressing himself into a meltdown by giving him something physical to focus on. First the experience itself, submitting to the toys, and then his dick, the constant low level stimulation making it impossible to ignore. 

And Michael had repaid that care by behaving, well, like a brat. Which explained Alex's lack of concern for Michael's sulking, because he'd probably expected it, damn him. 

Michael could at least stop acting like an ungrateful brat, even if he were still in a position that meant his primary focus was the omnipresent pulse of desire captured and enhanced by the cock ring. He would stick it out until the timer went off today, and they could talk about the whole experience later. 

With that much settled in his head, Michael re-entered the house, stomping snow off the boots before depositing them on the boot tray, the poncho returned to its hook. He bestowed a smile on the room in general when he rejoined the group in the living room, picking up the throw blanket and plopping down on his side on the couch, using Alex's thigh as a pillow. 

"Um, hello." Alex touched his cheek, fingers feeling incredibly warm. "You got chilled out there." 

Michael made a non-committal noise and waved at the women. "Maria said there was adequate nap time. Feel free to talk amongst yourselves." 

He heard Alex chuckle, and grinned as he curled up tight under the blanket. The hand at his cheek shifted to rest on his scalp, petting absently, and Michael dropped off almost immediately. 

He came to just as fast with an obnoxious beeping close to his ear. 

"Sorry, that's my watch," Alex told him, moving his hand away to shut off the alarm. It took Michael a minute to remember what that meant, then he sat up, yawning. 

"Since I've been so rudely awakened, I'm going to hit the head before dinner, as Mr ex-military might say," offering a smirk in Alex's direction as he used the code phrase meaning he was going to remove the cock ring. 

"I thought that was Navy? Weren't you Air Force, Alex?" Isobel queried. 

"His whole family is Navy, he knows what it means," Michael scoffed, standing as carefully as the last time before going to leave the room. 

He heard Alex apologising behind him. "The alarm was a reminder to check something. I'm really sorry, it'll just take a sec."

Upon locking the bathroom door, and making sure the fan was on to cover any potential noises, Michael shed every stitch of clothing save his socks, keeping them on for protection against the cold ceramic tiles. 

The first hurdle became apparent when Michael tried to see what he was doing. He needed to free his balls first and he couldn't see past his dick. Thank God his sister was a fashion plate; most people did not have a full-length mirror in the downstairs powder room, but Isobel did, and he had to go by microscope rules to get the stretchy silicone band displaced. 

And then he had to stop and breathe. 

He checked his phone, figuring correctly that Alex had texted him. 

_Everything okay?_

_Yeah. Let's go w diff option next time tho. This one needs 2 ppl._

_Next time, huh?_

Dammit. Michael scowled and sent just a tongue emoji. 

_I'll keep that in mind for later._

He put the phone down, arousal having backed off a little, and carefully rolled the main part of the ring up the shaft, over the head, and off, clenching his teeth against the urge to touch any more than absolutely necessary. 

It was a sweet enough ache, as these things went, but it still fucking ached, and he cussed out Alex under his breath where no one could hear him. Then grabbed his phone again to confirm his compliance. 

_Off. You’re still evil._

A devil emoji was the sole reply and Michael snorted, the imaginary evil laugh track playing in his head. 

He used the toilet since he was there anyway and got dressed again after washing his hands, the cock ring safely stowed in his pocket and hidden by the extra long sweatshirt he was so very grateful today that he owned. 

After all that, coping with the butt plug throughout dinner and beyond would be a cinch. 

[end chapter seven]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yep, the convo between Michael and Maria is where the fic title came from. It's an electrical engineering term. :-)


	8. Ease

*

Michael trudged up the stairs ahead of Alex, unutterably grateful to be home. If for no other reason than it meant the finish line was in his sights.

He hung up both their coats while Alex went to put the leftovers in the fridge, then locked the door and put the security chain on. When he turned around, he found Alex stood right there, giving him a searching look. "How are you feeling?" 

"The current frontrunners are relieved and annoyed, and before you ask, for the same reason: we ended up staying like two hours longer than I would have normally, because you and Isobel were getting on like a house on fire." 

Alex chuckled. "That's fair. And we need to talk about both of those." Michael sighed and nodded when he paused, and Alex continued, "So my next question is, do you want to talk first? Or do you want to come first?" He cupped Michael's crotch and squeezed lightly. 

The noise Michael made was desperate enough to almost be embarrassing. "Fuck, is that really an option? Door number two, please, yes," grunting when Alex used his grip to direct Michael backwards the few feet to the wall. Michael had never noticed the space between the edge of the front door frame and the coat closet was only a couple of inches wider than his shoulders; it had never been relevant information before. 

"Door number two it is," Alex smiled, making quick work of the belt, button, and zipper of Michael's jeans and reaching inside, fingers wrapping around Michael's cock in an echo of prepping him hours ago. 

The secure hold brought Michael to full hardness so fast it made him gasp, dizzy. "Alex. Fuck." 

"Now I know you're not trying to give me orders, treasure," he teased, licking the shell of Michael's ear. Michael whined, throaty and wanting, the sound pulling a chuckle from Alex. "No, you're going to stand here, and take what I give you, and you're going to come whenever you're ready." His mouth travelled down Michael's neck in a wet trail of open-mouthed kisses. "Going to be so good for me." 

"Yes," Michael agreed, affirmation floating free. This, he didn't need to think about, opening to Alex's hands and mouth; letting the demand in his touch take over; sinking into the feeling of being owned. 

"Good boy," Alex murmured at his lips before kissing him, and that carried its own pleasure, its own reassurance. Michael responded to the leashed hunger he could feel and the soft praise. He'd been stupid and annoying and childish today but it was okay: Alex still wanted him. 

When he came, held bodily in place, Alex's teeth on his throat, Alex's hand on his cock, the relief was far more than physical. 

The next kiss was gentle, a barely there press of lips as Alex wiped his hand on the inside of Michael's boxer-briefs. "You go get cleaned up and wait by the bed, hm? I'm going to wash my hands then I'll come take care of the plug. Then, we can both get into comfy clothes and come back out here, talk on the couch." 

"In your lap?" Michael couldn't stop himself from asking. He really didn't want to get too far away and it must have shown on his face because Alex smiled and brushed another kiss across his lips, infinitely tender. 

"Of course. Listen, I'll just use one of your wipes, come with you instead, yeah? Stay close." 

"Thank you," he whispered. He didn't know why he felt extra needy or whatever; they usually split to clean up and it hadn't bothered Michael before. But it was right now so he was just grateful Alex didn't seem to mind. 

Emboldened by the positive attention and his own fuzzy thinking, Michael reached up and brushed away a lock of dark hair that had fallen over one eyebrow. He was careful not to touch Alex's face beyond that light swipe of a fingertip, but he did linger in Alex's hair, petting lightly. 

Alex's smile didn't change but something complicated bloomed in his eyes, locked with Michael's. He allowed the petting, though, letting Michael sift his fingers through the soft spikes, tousling them further. It was impossible to truly mess up his just-been-fucked hairstyle, at least - it wouldn't turn into a mountain of frizz like Michael's would if played with too much. 

"Bedroom?" Alex asked quietly, and it was a question. It was also, _Are you ready?_, and, _It's okay if you're not_, and, _You have permission to keep touching me_. 

Michael smiled, giving him a final pet and letting his hand drop to Alex's shoulder, first, giving it a squeeze, and then all the way down to his side. "Yeah, let's clean up." 

It didn't take long, and he both noticed and appreciated that Alex remained in sight and/or physical contact the whole time, until they were slotted together on the couch. Michael pressed close to begin with - too close for effective conversation - and Alex let him, running a hand up and down Michael's spine, the slow, gentle movement relaxing him. 

When he felt ready, Michael sat back enough to be able to see Alex's face and smiled at him. "Okay. Shoot." 

Alex chuckled. "All right, how about we start at the beginning, when I gave you an order and you considered safewording? What was going through your mind?" 

"At first it was just, what the fuck, it's not a good time. Then you pulled out the voice and yeah, I thought about it," he explained. The near panic seemed very distant now. 

"And you chose not to, because...?" 

"I mean, I thought about it because I was so not in the mood, you know, and there you were with the toy drawer open. But, like, whatever you were gonna do, it wasn't going to harm me? I knew that, I trusted that, and you." He mirrored the nod, happy that Alex seemed pleased with the answer. "With the ring, that's a lot more vulnerable for me, and if we'd been going somewhere else, I would have called yellow at least, so we could have talked about it. But we were going to what's like a second home to me, you know, somewhere I feel safe, so it felt doable." 

"Good. I knew you were hesitant; that's why I asked you point blank about the ring." Alex wet his lips, his expression serious. "I haven't pushed you like that before today and I trusted you to really think about it, and to call red if you needed to." 

"I know." It felt good, like the praise had earlier. "And I know if I had, you would've put the ring away." 

"Yes."

"And," this was the trickier part for Michael, "I figured out later the whole thing was to, like, shuffle me away from having a panic attack, you know, do a redirect." 

"While you were outside, right? You were... surprisingly affectionate when you came back in." 

Michael scrunched up his face. "Because I was being a dick before that. I'm sorry." 

"No need, but thank you. I knew what I was getting myself into," he smirked. 

"Yeah, I had that impression. It was comforting, remembering you said you like brats." He jerked his head towards the front door, smile rueful. "Over there, when we got home, that was comforting, too. I don't know why I still feel, like, clingy." 

"My educated guess is, you're experiencing a bit of sub drop." His hands continued to move lightly over Michael, not with any particular direction, simply petting. 

"Sub drop? Sounds like refrigerator cookies." 

At that, Alex laughed. "Not sub zero drop cookies, no, Michael. The things that come out of your mouth." He leaned forward to kiss him. "You know how if you've been to a super amazing concert, or on a fantastic vacation, and the day after, you just feel down? It's kind of like that. We've mostly been scening in the evening, with the intention of sleeping in the same bed after, so it hasn't been a factor. Also, today was pretty extended, time-wise, albeit light, so that plays into it, too." 

"Huh." He digested that, examining the concept in his head. "Is there dom drop, too?" There had to be, right? 

"Yeah, that happens too. For me, it's only after certain kinds of intense scenes. But I need the same things then, lots of touch, reassurance." 

Michael hadn't missed Alex's surprise at being asked and he tucked away the new knowledge. "So today was a long scene, but the intense bits were all on my side after you got the toys on. Is that it?" 

"That's exactly it. All I had to do after that was monitor you. I mean, you were grumpy at times, but your behaviour didn't need to be managed, so it was basically all fun on my side." 

"Fun," Michael echoed disbelievingly, and laughed. "Reason number ten million and two I'm definitely not a switch. I don't get how that was fun." 

"No? We did establish that I like to tease, the first time we fucked." Alex's grin was wicked. "Putting toys on you and watching you squirm as discreetly as possible is very much my idea of fun." 

"Okay, you have me there," he admitted with a chuckle. "I wouldn't say it was fun for me, but it was a hell of a lot better than a panic attack, and I didn't end up picking a fight with Iz, which is what usually happens when I'm panicky, so I'd consider it a successful distraction technique." 

Alex batted his eyelashes. "I'll just make sure to use a one part cock ring next time." 

"I knew it was a mistake to say that," Michael groaned, though he not so secretly enjoyed the way it made Alex laugh. 

"I would have gotten it out of you anyway." 

"Fair enough," he conceded. 

"Thank you for trusting me." He punctuated the gratitude with a slow kiss that had Michael melting against his chest. 

Sitting there - kneeling, technically - astride Alex's lap, strong thighs between his calves, arms wrapped loosely around him, solid torso supporting his, sweet kisses keeping his mouth occupied, Michael felt safe and cared for in a deeply satisfying way. He pulled back enough to murmur, "Thank you. For understanding me." 

"Oh, Michael," his name carried on a sigh. "You are so beautifully open, it's easy to read you most times." 

"Still," he insisted, needing Alex to take it seriously. 

"You're welcome, treasure."

Michael smiled at the concession, and leaned in for another kiss. 

[end chapter eight]


	9. Smudges

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Michael does have friends!   
~ Tas

Michael wasn't sure what woke him, the kick or the sound of crying, as he blinked awake in the semi-darkness. Nowhere downtown was ever truly dark if it had windows. 

"Alex?" he called softly, in case the other man was also awake. "Can I help?" 

No reply, which was as he'd expected. Touch was probably another one of those situations where it was best not to without lots of advance warning. He distinctly recalled what Benoît had said about noise, during the month or so his friend had slept on his couch when in between places. 

_"Just move about like normal. Rattle the dishes. Drop the spoon in the sink. Talk normally if you answer the phone. I'll sleep through all that. But if you try to sneak around, I'll wake up looking for an enemy." _

As much as Michael liked it when Alex pinned him under other circumstances, he didn't think that would go well for either of them here. Instead he shifted up onto his knees, not attempting stealth, and knocked on the wall above the headboard, giving it a solid four raps. "Alex? I think you're having a nightmare, man." Still no response and he knocked again, a little louder. "Alex. Wake up." 

That brought Alex around all at once, sitting up as he turned towards the noise, his cheeks shining faintly with dampness. He seemed surprised to see someone else and tilted his head back, frowning for a moment before his face cleared. "Oh. Michael." 

"Yeah, just me." 

"What time is it?" 

Michael craned to read the glowing numbers on the clock. "Not quite four." 

"Fuck." He sighed, and it was such a tired sound that Michael had to squelch the urge to wrap him up in a hug and sing him a lullaby or something. Anything. "Okay." 

Alex swung his legs over the side of the bed and started getting sock and sweatpants on. Michael frowned. "You're getting up? Now?" 

"Now is when I'm awake, so, yes." It was terse and Michael bit his lip. 

"Do you want company, or ---"

"You have exam monitoring in the morning." 

"Yeah, I know, but ---"

"Michael." The flat tone silenced him and he remained quiet as, dressed, Alex reached for his crutches and levered himself upright. As he moved towards the door, he said over his shoulder, "If you want to help, go back to bed, and leave me alone." 

Michael leaned against the headboard as the door clicked shut behind Alex. That had stung. He couldn't fault Alex for it - waking from a bad dream in the middle of the night was bad enough, let alone having to put up with someone hovering. The fact that it was Michael trying to take care of him didn't seem to have mattered. 

"It's not about me," he whispered to himself, slipping under the covers and trying to relax. Michael knew it was true; neither the nightmare nor the brusque manner afterwards was his fault, or even had anything to do with him beyond the simple coincidence of his presence. 

But that didn't stop it from hurting. 

Despite himself, Michael did fall asleep eventually, a fact he faced when his alarm prompted him out of bed. He stretched and padded out into the great room. 

Alex was curled up on the couch, blanket over him, laptop on the coffee table. He'd obviously worked until he got sleepy, and probably pretty recently as he still looked tired, his brow furrowed slightly. Michael wanted to kiss it smooth. 

Instead he started the coffee brewing and went for a shower. 

By the time Michael was ready to leave the house, Alex had relaxed into a deep sleep. He couldn't remember what Alex's schedule was for today, if he had anything timebound, but his phone was beside his laptop and he would have set himself reminder alarms if there were anything specific he needed to do. 

That left the question of the door. He could leave Alex the extra set of keys, now that he had one, but, that felt weird. Michael didn't think he'd be able to ask for them back if he handed them over. And his ambivalent hesitation said that he wasn't ready to give them to Alex properly, especially not like this. 

Unable to quickly locate any loose paper, Michael gritted his teeth and tore a page from the back of one of his notebooks, scrawling a short note. 

_Gone to exams. If you need to leave before I get back in aft, the street door automatically locks, just make sure it's closed all the way. Coffeemaker is ready with grinds and water, all you have to do is hit the button.  
XO, Michael _

He placed it under Alex's phone, where he'd be sure to see it, and left. 

*

Somehow Michael wasn't surprised to return to an empty apartment. The blanket had been folded neatly and placed over the back of the couch, and the cushions plumped to erase all trace someone had slept there. All of Alex's electronics were gone and only the piece of paper under the TV remote revealed there'd been a human presence. 

He dropped onto the couch and read the note. 

_Thanks for the coffee. Heading back to my place, hopefully to sleep more. Need tonight alone. Text me this evening to check in, please, and I can call you then.  
-A_

Much like in the early morning, he understood it, though he didn't like it. But he didn't have to. Michael only had to respect it. 

Crumpling the note into a ball, he tossed it into the blue bin for recycling, and went looking for a snack. 

It was a couple of hours later, when the fruit salad had long since vanished and Michael was beginning to consider real food, when his phone went off. Glancing at the caller ID, his smile was unfeigned as he answered, "Ben! How's it going, man?" 

"Good, honey, it's going good. I'm downtown right now so I thought I'd see if you have any time for little old me before I go back up to Richmond Hill, or if you're still chained to the bed." 

"Ben. I have not been chained to the bed, Jesus." Michael ran a hand over his face. 

"Close enough." 

He had to laugh. "Well, I'm on my own tonight. Do you want to meet up somewhere, or come over and order in?" 

"Ooooh, ordering in sounds good. You got beer?" 

"Some but we could use more if you're gonna stay a while." 

"Say no more, I'll make a stop." 

Once they'd agreed on the finer details, Michael hung up, smiling. He kind of had been spending his free time with Alex to the detriment of his friends. At least they all knew he was like that occasionally, most often when he had a research breakthrough. 

He went ahead and ordered the pizza, knowing it would take longer than Benoît would, and put all the beer he did have in the fridge. And added beer to the grocery list. 

At the doorbell, he checked to make sure it wasn't the pizza, and buzzed it open, catching Benoît in a hug as soon as he came through the door, getting a good squeeze in return. 

"Well, hello! I missed you too. Here, you take my coat and I'll do the beer." 

"The upright bottles on the top shelf are the cold ones. Rest're on their sides near the bottom," Michael informed him, fitting the coat over a hanger in the closet. 

"Gotcha! Oh good, twist caps." He matched action to words and twisted them off, bringing the open bottles over to the couch and flopping down beside Michael. "Honey. We need to talk about your fridge." 

Michael paused with his bottle partway to his mouth. "What's wrong with my fridge?" Was it leaking or something? 

"You have a big ol' tub of plain low-fat probiotic yogurt, which I know you hate, and an entire row of tiny jam jars. What’s up with that?" 

He relaxed; contents queries, Michael could handle. "The jams are from an advent calendar I got for Alex. He only eats toast for breakfast so I thought I'd help make it interesting. And the yogurt is for smoothies. I don't eat it, exactly, don't worry." 

"Uh-huh. So Alex is here often enough in the mornings for you to be trying to customise his toast, hm?"

"I hadn't thought about it quite like that," Michael chuckled. "But yeah, he stays over a lot." 

"Moving fast, or something else?" Benoît's eyes were shrewd on him and Michael had a feeling he already knew the answer. They'd had some vague conversations a few years back that had confused Michael at the time. His memory was hazy but he was pretty sure, thinking about it with the context he'd since learned, what the topic had been. 

"Um, both, I guess? I mean, things are moving fast, but also, he's a good dom." He watched Benoît carefully, ready to retract the word and plead ignorance if he had to. 

A slow grin cracked Benoît's face. "O-ho, now we're getting to the juicy stuff! About time somebody noticed. Was that you or him?" 

"Him." Michael eyed his friend. "You're, I mean, you're not..." he halted. How did he ask someone about their power orientation? 

"A dom? Nooo, baby, I'm a sub like you." 

"So Tom is...?" 

"Yeppers," he confirmed cheerfully, then his expression became mischievous. "Tom the dom. He hates it when I say that." 

"So of course you say it all the time." 

"You got it!" Benoît gave him an exaggerated wink and Michael laughed, then scrambled to his feet at the doorbell. 

"That'll be the pizza." 

He clattered down the stairs to retrieve the food, and the living room was quiet for the next few minutes as both men served themselves and began to eat. 

The conversation picked up again; inevitable, since Benoît was almost as chatty as Michael. "How are you finding it, having a dom? Besides all the sex, seeing as last time we talked you said you'd never done so much laundry in your life." 

"It gets messy," Michael laughed. "Um, I like it, yeah. There's the normal relationship parts and those are pretty standard, I guess. And then the other layer. It’s... If I had to pick one word, I think it'd be, comforting." 

"That's a good word," Benoît opined around a mouthful. 

"Yeah," Michael agreed, taking a gulp of his beer. He huffed a laugh. "And I think I'm addicted to the way he looks at me." 

"Oh? Do tell," he encouraged, smiling. 

"Well, like, there's the sex look, which can kinda take me zero to sixty before anybody's touching anything." 

"Nice. Tom has a particular way of speaking that works like that." 

"Yeah, Alex has a few tones of voice, and an amazing evil laugh, but nothing gets to me like that look," he admitted. "Fucking kryptonite." 

Benoît laughed. "Potent weapon." 

"Yeah, very," he snorted. "Non sexual is, I don't know how to put it. It's less a specific look and more a habit of watching me? Like, he notices stuff, constantly. I've never had that kind of laser focused attention before and it feels really good." 

"It does feel good when someone sees you for you." 

"That's it exactly, yeah. Anyway, I'm glad I know now about you and Tom. I can bring you all my embarrassing questions that I'm not actually embarrassed about," Michael smirked. "And it's good, you know, to know it's... sustainable." 

Lowering his beer bottle, Benoît frowned. "You don't think it's gonna last?" 

"It's not that I don't think it'll last, not really. It’s just, intense as fuck." 

"Some of that is all that new relationship energy rolling around," he waved dismissively. "It won't always be dialled up to eleven, but take it from a happily married man, it's still fucking good at eight." 

"Yeah, that's what I meant, it's reassuring." He wasn’t sure Alex specifically would be happy at a volume setting of eight, given how much he seemed to like everything at eleven, but there was no point in speculating about it. Probably Alex didn't even know himself; he wasn’t the same person he'd been in his previous relationships. War had changed him. 

"I was hoping I might get to meet Alex but clearly not in the cards for tonight, eh?" 

"No, he, uh, he needed some time to himself," Michael admitted, eyes on his pizza slice. "I think he had a nightmare? Kind of thrashing around some and he looked upset. I remembered what you said about noise before, so I just called his name and knocked on the wall until he woke up." He wasn’t going to mention the tears; that wasn't anyone's business. 

Benoît looked thoughtful. "I'm guessing you not being sure means he didn't wanna talk about it. Did he get up? I can never go right back to sleep." 

"You still get nightmares?" Michael queried, surprised. 

"Uh-huh. Not often anymore, thank God. I still like a bit of time to myself after, remind my brain what reality today looks like. But I'm like you, Michael," he smiled, giving an exaggerated wink. "I'll talk to anybody who stands still long enough. Alex is quieter, right? And his experience is a lot fresher, too." 

"Yeah," Michael laughed a little. "I'm the only motormouth. I guess it just... I know, I _know_ it isn't personal, okay? But it still feels like I'm being shut out." 

"Well, you are," came the candid reply. "And you need to adapt to that, because he can't. He needs _you_ to be the flexible one and to give him space. He might need it less as time passes, but he might always need a corner to call his own where it's understood no one is allowed to bother him." 

"Huh." He turned that over in his mind, examining it from all angles. "So when he told me to go back to bed and leave him alone, that wasn't a brush-off, that was genuinely the best way for me to support him." 

"Pretty much, yeah." 

Michael sighed. "This is really heavy for a two beer conversation at," he checked his phone, "not even nine o'clock." 

"Game's at nine. I have a reminder alarm set," Benoît grinned. 

"Of course you do," Michael rolled his eyes. "Okay, well, I need to text Alex to call me, so you go ahead and find the right channel while I do that." 

He left Benoît to the TV and went into the bedroom, typing as he walked. 

_Hey, just hanging out with a friend who happened to be in town today. I'm ready whenever you want to call._

When his phone vibrated a few minutes later, Michael glanced at the caller ID to be sure, then answered softly, "Hey, you." 

"Hey yourself," Alex replied, smile clearly audible. Michael could hear background noise, too, and realised it was an echo of his own living room. 

"You watching the hockey? It sounds the same as my TV." 

"I thought you didn't like hockey." 

"I don't hate it!" Michael protested, laughing. "Besides, it's the price of being friends with Canadians." 

Alex chuckled. "I guess it is at that. At least the one currently visiting." 

"Yeah, Ben's big into it. He got married and moved to the suburbs, so it's pretty rare to not have to plan to meet up these days. I talk to him lots, WhatsApp mostly, but it's nice to see him. He was one of the first friends I made when I moved here." 

"Oh, nice. How did your exam monitoring go?" 

"Boring as fuck," Michael snorted. "Nobody attempted to cheat. I have one more tomorrow morning, then some lab time in the afternoon. Alone, my assistant already went home for the holidays. I'll do my best not to set anything on fire," he teased, smiling at Alex's laugh. 

"See that you don't. I want to take you out to dinner tomorrow night." 

"Sure, just text me when and where, and fashion instructions." 

"I'm still deciding on the location but you'll need a jacket and tie." 

Michael raised his eyebrows. "Oh, you mean out, out. Yeah, that's fine, I've got it covered." A thought struck him. "Matter of fact, I have a custom tailored tuxedo hanging pressed in my closet, courtesy of Isobel's wedding, so I can wear whatever you want." 

Silence greeted him and Michael frowned. He could still hear the echo of the game so the call hadn't dropped. "Alex?" 

"I'm here." He cleared his throat. "A regular jacket and tie will be fine. No need to break out the big guns." 

The phrasing clued Michael in and he laughed, low and dirty. "I think I see a dry cleaning bill in my future. The tux looks good, if I do say so myself." 

"I will take your word for it - for now," he emphasised, and they both laughed. "Listen, Michael, about this morning. I'm sorry if I seemed cold. I just need time alone if, when, I've had a-a-a thing. A moment. Nightmare. Whatever." 

"I know." He bit his lip. "I'm not going to deny that it hurt, to be pushed away like that. But, I do understand, Alex, and I'm... I'm working on not taking it personally, okay? Because it isn't. It's just gonna take me a little work to get it to sink in." 

"That's fair. I should have warned you, but I've been sleeping well, and ---"

"And it's hard to talk about, because it has to do with your leg. I know." Tentatively, he asked, "Are you feeling better now? You sound better." 

"Yeah. Yeah, I am. I don't know what time I fell asleep but it was around one when I woke. I really passed out." 

"Good. You obviously needed it." 

"Thanks again for the coffee, too, that was nice." 

Michael smiled. "You're welcome. Just, you know, serving my dom." He didn't put things in those terms often but with Benoît's comments fresh in his mind, and Alex out of physical reach, it felt like the right thing to say. Reassuring, maybe, for both of them. 

Alex's laugh was soft, coloured with incredulity. "That's why you’re my treasure." 

Pleased with the reaction, Michael grinned. "So you know, I am totally going as a chest of gold coins next Halloween."

"Oh I'm looking forward to seeing that! You can tell me your costume plans at dinner," he chuckled. 

"You're on. See you tomorrow?" 

"Tomorrow," Alex echoed. "I'll send you the info in plenty of time for you to get home and change." 

"Thank you," Michael said sincerely.

"Good night, Michael. Have fun with Ben." 

"I will, yeah. Good night." 

He put the phone down, smiling. It was crazy how much better just talking to Alex made him feel. Hearing him laugh. 

Mood buoyant, Michael returned to the living room and struck a pose when Benoît glanced over. "I have a dinner date somewhere fancy tomorrow night. Not fancy enough for the tux, but mentioning I have one definitely got his attention." 

"Oh so you're going to be chained to the bed in style now." 

"Fuck off," he flipped him the finger for good measure. 

"I've seen the wedding photos. It's a good tux," Benoît laughed.

"Right?" He went to flop on the couch and Benoît motioned at him to stop. 

"Here, lie down so I can play with those luscious curls." 

"You gotta move to the other end then. Assuming you want to use your real hand," Michael teased. 

Benoît rolled his eyes but he did shift down the couch. "Afraid I might yank it all out with my bionic hand?" 

Michael scoffed, stretching out with his head on Benoît's thigh. "Hardly. I know for a fact the fine motor skills in your hand are more than good enough to pet safely. But it wouldn't be any fun for you." 

"True," he agreed, fingers beginning to sift through Michael's hair. "Plus, I mean, I'd want to feel it if I pulled your hair out." 

"Asshole," Michael chuckled as his eyelids drooped. "You know I might fall asleep." 

"It's not like you care about the game, honey."

That was a fact Michael could not dispute. "You could always grow yours out. I know it's a lot tighter than mine, but..." He'd never seen Benoît with longer hair. 

"Oh hell no. If I let my hair get as long as yours," he pulled one lock taut, presumably checking its length, "I'd have a fro that would put people's eyes out. No, baby, I'm happy with my halo." 

"Halo," Michael scoffed. "So not a word I associate with you, man." 

"Maybe not," Benoît conceded, chuckling, and they settled in to watch the game. 

[end chapter nine]


	10. A Taste of Home

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Date night with a side of backstory. ;-) On the longer side. 
> 
> ~ Tas

The streetcar was crammed this time of day, but the snow flurries promised for overnight had started early, so while Michael would normally walk the twenty minutes or so to the restaurant where he was meeting Alex, he didn't want to arrive soaking wet if he didn't have to. On the way home, fine, he could change his clothes, but sitting damp through dinner was not an attractive prospect. 

Still, it was a relief to alight at Yonge and cover the last block on foot, to the corner of Richmond where he stepped inside Leña, stomping snow off his boots on the floor mat. Thankfully Alex had dialled back the dress code, because Michael would not have wanted to try walking in this weather in a pair of formal shoes. He was much happier in boots with decent treads, dark grey trousers, and a green long-sleeved button-down shirt in super soft twill. 

He gave Alex's name to the hostess, unsurprised when she directed him to a table at the rear of the room, already occupied. They went out to eat enough that Michael had identified certain patterns. The only times Alex wasn't there first were due to transportation delays. He liked to sit with his back to a literal wall, when that was possible. And he was sure enough of Michael's deference (and lack of allergies and adventurous palate) that he sometimes went ahead and ordered for them both. An action he'd clearly taken tonight as Michael approached the table where a server was in the midst pouring a bottle of white wine and there was a big plate of... something, in front of Alex, with a smaller, empty plate opposite. 

"Hey," Michael greeted, smiling when Alex looked up. "I see you're as organised as ever." 

That got him the chuckle he was after and his smile widened as he slid onto the waiting chair, taking stock of Alex's appearance. He couldn't see the trousers but it was a good bet they were as black as the sinfully tight sweater outlining the contours of Alex's torso and arms. More importantly, Alex seemed relaxed, his smile easy, and that relaxed Michael in turn. 

He waited for Alex to finish speaking to the server before gesturing at the pile of shells. "What is that?" 

"It's Buck-a-Shuck night," as if that explained everything. 

Buck, Michael knew; the other word, he could use to make terrible, filthy rhymes, but he was lost. "I must reiterate: what the hell is that?" 

Alex laughed. "I'd wondered if you would have encountered raw oysters before. Apparently not, huh?" 

Michael aimed a doubtful expression at the pile. "I've seen pictures, but they were, like, neatly on a plate. Not looking like they literally just got fished out of the ocean." 

"That's the fun part," Alex grinned, picking up a sharp-edged, weirdly shaped knife with a flourish. "The price point is only possible because they aren't pre-shucked, plus the bottle of wine requirement." 

Now it was starting to make sense. "Once again, you and I have wildly different ideas about what constitutes fun." 

Laughing, Alex began wielding the knife, deftly cracking a shell into two halves, discarding the unoccupied half and doing some kind of quick flick to the interior of the other, before setting it aside and picking up another shell as he spoke. "I'll make you a deal: you try one. If you like it, we'll split them, a half dozen each. If you don't, I'll happily eat the rest and you can order a less DIY appetizer." 

Michael watched his hands, a little mesmerised by the knife work. "You've got yourself a deal." 

This one, Alex placed on Michael's plate, and then squeezed a wedge of lemon over both waiting oysters. Michael frowned at it. "How do I...?" 

"Watch first." Alex lifted his shell and tilted his head back slightly. His tongue poked out to press against the underside of the shell, seemingly as guidance as he tipped up the shell. A moment later, his Adam's apple bobbed. Michael was beginning to think the whole myth of oysters-as-aphrodisiac had less to do with the shellfish and more with the manner of eating them. 

"So no chewing then?" he checked, flippant as ever, when Alex set the emptied shell aside. 

"Well, you could if you really wanted to, but the texture is unpleasant," Alex revealed with a chuckle. His gaze intensified as he leaned forward. Michael automatically mirrored him, fighting the urge to squirm under those dark eyes combined with the low murmur, "All you need to do is, let it slip into your mouth and shoot down your throat. I know you can do that." 

"Yeah," he agreed breathlessly, enjoying the resulting smug tinge to Alex's smile. Michael straightened and brought the readied shell to his mouth, maintaining eye contact until he lifted his chin to follow the instructions. 

Lemon hit first, a familiar burst of bright acidity, then the salty ocean musk of the oyster, like nothing else he'd tasted but undeniably from the sea. Unusual flavour, unusual method; he liked the package. 

He looked over at Alex, smirking at the quizzical eyebrow. "Yeah, we're definitely sharing those." 

"Good." Alex picked the knife back up and started in on the remaining pile. After he shucked a pair, he squeezed the lemon wedge over both freshly exposed oysters and each man swallowed theirs down. Then they repeated the cycle, one pair at a time. With the salt and lemon flavours and the rhythm, it was almost like doing shots. The wine was nice, complementary to the seafood, but now Michael really wanted some good tequila. 

He said as much when they were finished, a mound of broken shells in the middle of the table, and Alex smiled. "So order some. It’s a South American place, I'm sure they have something decent." 

"I might not be good for much later if I get into the tequila," he warned quietly, to an unconcerned shrug. Michael added, "Yeah, but I was kind of hoping for a, uh, private demonstration of that thing you said you knew I know how to do." After all that with the oysters, he was going to be disappointed if he didn't get to be on the giving end of a blowjob. 

Alex chuckled. "I think that's straightforward enough to be a go unless you get really wasted." 

"Okay." Michael bestowed a brilliant smile on him, pleased when Alex laughed, and picked up the beverage menu, flipping to the spirits. They did indeed have a reasonable selection and he left the page open while he looked over the food menu. 

When the server reappeared, Alex nodded at him to go first, so Michael ordered a double shot of gold tequila over ice and the entrée he wanted, opting for the relative safety of chicken after the raw oysters. 

"And I'll have a Pink Fairy Armadillo to drink, and the Piri Piri octopus, please." 

Menus and used plates went with the server, and Michael eyed Alex. "I gather you've had this pink fairy cocktail before?" 

He grinned. "Yeah. It's sweet but really good, and it's kind of a memorable name. Might be the gayest thing I've ever ordered." 

Michael laughed. "Hey, if it's good, it's good! If I weren't craving tequila, I'd join you. Pink generally seems like a good idea after spending time with Ben." 

"Oh?" One eyebrow raised, speaking louder than the word. 

"Ben is... Not camp, exactly, but your radar would have to be broken beyond repair not to clock him, know what I mean?" he explained, to Alex nodding. 

"Yeah, I know guys like that. You said on the phone he was one of your first Toronto friends, right? How did you meet?" 

"I was working at a prosthetist clinic, kind of a volunteer internship related to my Masters programme. Ben was one of the first patients I was allowed to interact with rather than just observing. We got talking, he learned I was new in town, and he basically took me under his wing." 

"Nice. Were you already working with hands then, or just whatever was available?" 

The conversation paused as their drinks were served and Michael smirked at the giant, screaming pink cocktail placed in front of Alex. "That is impressive, seriously. No wonder you remembered it!" 

"See?" Alex batted his eyelashes. "You want a taste?" 

"Yes, but after you've had some, I think. If you move it now, it might go all over the table." He didn't make the reciprocal offer, knowing Alex wasn't keen on tequila. 

"Good point. You were saying about the prosthetist?" 

"Yeah, uh, there were, three, I think, at the clinic? All with different specialties, so I got to assist with lots of different types. But Ben's specifically is his left hand. He's ex-Forces, too; lost it in Afghanistan," his voice softened in response to Alex's expression, pensive and a little surprised. 

"That's why you aren't fazed by stuff, because you've seen it with your friend, too, not just as part of your research." 

"Yeah. I've known Ben six years now, so it's become part of my normal." Even as he said it, Michael realised how much longer ago that was than Alex's loss, which seemed to hit Alex simultaneously, judging by his sigh. 

"Wow. Six years ago, I was on my first deployment. All limbs and heart intact." He huffed a laugh. "It's hard to remember what that even felt like, now." 

Michael desperately wanted to ask about the slipped detail but it wasn't the time. Instead he offered a sweet smile and a quiet, "I know." 

"I was going to ask you why you hadn't told me about Ben - not that he exists, I knew that, you do talk about your friends, but," Alex shook his head, self-deprecation creeping into his tone, "I tend to avoid talking about my leg as much as possible, so it makes sense that you wouldn't bring the topic up." 

"Pretty much," he agreed. "I figured it would come up naturally at some point. No sense forcing it." 

"Thank you." It was quiet, sincere; shimmering for a long moment in the air between them as they locked gazes. Michael broke first, dropping his eyes in concession, though not so far that he missed seeing Alex smile. It was good. 

Alex circled back to the primary conversation topic. "So, um, were you and Ben involved ever, or just friends?"

A loud laugh busted out. "Me and Ben? Fuck, no. No, he's older, like, he turned forty this past summer; his husband threw a big surprise party and everything. It was more like an older brother thing." Michael pursed his lips thoughtfully. "Except with more ass and less poetry than I was accustomed to with my actual older brother." 

"Less poetry is obvious, given what I know of Max, but more ass? Do tell," Alex insisted. 

"He, uh, he kind of introduced me to Church Street. Like, all of it," he admitted, smirking at the way Alex's eyebrows shot up. "I'd never been to a gay bar before that. Obviously there wasn't anything in Roswell, and I was underage besides, but even in Albuquerque, I didn't venture that far off campus? Plus I had a girlfriend for a year and change, and a boyfriend for a while too," he kept talking in the face of the rampant amusement coming from Alex. 

"And then you were in a new city, no ties, looking to meet people," the sarcasm dripped everywhere and Michael rolled his eyes, prompting Alex to laugh. "Still know anyone you met then?" 

"Only Ben," he grinned, and gave Alex a pointed look. "But that sounded like the voice of experience." 

"Yeah, I spent some time in clubs, too. I used to love to dance, among other things," his shrug was light, smile undimmed, and Michael counted it a victory. 

"I can't dance worth a shit. I can manage a plain slow dance with no injuries to either party, and that is the pinnacle of my achievement." 

"Good thing you're cute, then," he teased, and Michael laughed. 

"Yep." 

The arrival of their dinner interrupted any further banter and Alex ordered another round of drinks, pushing the scant remains of his current drink over to Michael. "Here, you finish that off." 

"Sure." One side still had a sugar rim and he rotated the glass to bring that part to his mouth, letting the berry-scented concoction spill over the crystals and onto his tongue. It was sweet, as expected, with enough lemon and liquor to keep it from being cloying. He drained it then shook his head at Alex. "Raspberry, huh?" 

His grin shaded dirty. "Definitely the flavour I most associate with you." 

"Next time, I'll have that, too," though he wasn’t sure either of them were talking cocktails anymore. Not that it mattered, really, not with the sly, flirtatious twist to Alex's smile and the answering heat in Michael's belly. He'd go along with whatever it meant to Alex. 

The fresh drinks appeared and they began to eat, chatting easily about nothing in particular. Alex telling the story of his mother's father teaching him to de-shell all kinds of shellfish, not just oysters. Michael talking about his part-time job at a ranch in high school, working as an assistant to the riding instructor who took tourists on pretty rides through the desert at sunset. 

Before Michael knew it, they were bundling back up against the cold and heading to the door. Only to step back inside at the accumulation of snow. 

"Alex, let me call an Uber. My place isn't far, it should be a safe enough drive, if that's okay?" 

"Yeah," he sighed, "go ahead. As long as I can get to mine by Sunday sometime to pack, I'm good." 

Michael chuckled, knowing the sigh had nothing to do with him and everything to do with potentially being without his computer for that long. "Okay. Booking now." 

The car took a while to appear; this far into winter, people had reacquainted themselves with how to drive safely in snow and the first rule was, _slow down_. But appear it did, kicking off a wordless argument with Alex's eyebrows about him taking Michael's arm to walk out to the vehicle. Michael won, knowing it would cost him later, and escorted his boyfriend outside. 

The potential for a grumpfest faded as he led Alex to the car, both of them stepping gingerly on the slippery surface. The restaurant had put salt on the sidewalk but snow was still coming down, mixing with the melted bits and the salt and generally making a big mess. 

"Supposed to keep it up all night," the driver informed them as they settled in the warm back seat. "I'll get you folks home, then I might knock off myself!" 

"Sensible," Michael opined, appreciating the pragmatism. He verified the address and they pulled away from the restaurant. 

The drive took longer than a dry walk would have taken Michael, but delivered them to their destination in one piece. He gave the driver a cash tip and helped Alex onto his feet, and then to the door, grateful to be allowed to do so. 

Trudging upstairs, Michael mentally catalogued the contents of fridge and cupboards, trying to remember if there was anything significant missing. He had the vague sense there was and resolved to take a quick look before he shed the outdoor layers. The forecast had called for the snow to start in earnest after midnight and the plan had been to hole up at Alex's apartment, not his. 

That quick check had Michael pulling out his phone to make a list. He was going to need to duck out. 

"What are you doing?" Alex enquired, his outer layers hung up to dry. 

"I'm just gonna run to the store," he paused for the expected protest, continuing, "because I was gonna be at your place, and then Isobel and Maria’s, so I'm out of a couple things. I won't be long." 

"I'm sure we can manage," Alex countered. Michael wasn't about to let on that he had no bread for toast, and no milk for his own coffee. Plus a few other bits but those two items alone made a trip worthwhile. 

"Seriously, I'll be a minute. But I am thinking bath when I get back. I'm gonna be wet and cold. You in?" he offered as a distraction. 

Alex fixed him with a look that said he wasn’t distracted one iota. Then he shrugged and smiled. "A bath sounds nice on a night like this. I'll fill the tub while you're gone." 

The stubborn set of his mouth told Michael to accept without protest. "Thanks. I'll be right back." 

It was a truly miserable walk, especially where he took care to keep to a slow pace, his steps deliberate and as safe as possible. And he hadn't been wrong: even in multiple layers, Michael was soaked to the skin by the time he returned. 

"I'm going to hang this in the shower stall," Alex told him, taking a wooden hanger and his dripping coat. "What's the best way to deal with the rest of your clothes?" 

"Over the kitchen chairs," he pointed. "The tile floor can cope with it." 

"All right, then, strip and come to the bathroom." 

"Okay," he agreed readily, beginning to remove the wet garments before Alex left the room. He draped each piece across a chair then retrieved the groceries, sticking the perishables wherever there was space in the fridge and leaving the non-perishables sitting on the counter, to be dealt with later. 

Shivering, he followed Alex into the bathroom, enduring the displeased noise. "Fuck, you really are chilled. Get in, c'mon." 

Tendrils of steam rose from the surface, but Michael was pleasantly surprised to find the water was comfortably warm - he usually made it too hot and either gritted his teeth until it cooled a little or, if he'd really overdone it, added cold water and stirred it with a foot until it felt bearable. "This is nice. Thank you." 

"Scoot over so I can access the bar," Alex ordered as he undressed, clothes left on top of the hamper. He sat on the wide edge of the tub and leaned his crutches against the wall, swinging his legs over and manoeuvring into the tub with the use of the grab bar on the wall. Michael couldn't help but watch the flex of muscle in the assisted move, his gaze admiring, and by the time Alex was fully in the water, he sported a faint smile. 

"Are you going to come over here, or I could go there?" Michael suggested, hesitant. He hadn't had a bath with a lover in a long time, and not often to begin with, though his big corner tub was meant to hold two people. He used it more in summer, cool baths to keep his body temperature down. Tonight, he needed it for the opposite. 

"I'll come to you," Alex decided, and then he was in motion, floating across to sit between Michael's spread thighs. He did need to bend his left leg to fit, but there was room enough for his knee to tilt sideways and stay underwater, and he leaned back against Michael with a sigh, head resting on Michael's right shoulder. 

"You're nice and warm," Michael said, and they both chuckled. 

"You're getting there." 

"Yeah." He was quiet for a while, letting heat seep into him from the water and Alex both. Alex was loose and relaxed against him and it made Michael feel daring, although his tipsy state probably contributed, too. "Alex? What did you mean earlier, about an intact heart six years ago?" 

Alex sighed, but didn't tense up. He remained silent long enough that Michael was about to apologise and retract the question, when he spoke. "Everything changed with my first deployment. Long distance in different countries is hard to begin with, but the nature of my specific work meant I was often in a communication lockdown, so that made it more difficult. And the other major problem was, me. I changed." 

"How did you change?" he prompted softly. 

His laugh was more than a little cynical. "When I met Kyle, I was a naïve undergrad from a small town, who had gone the RMC route strictly as a way to obtain a university degree. Whatever life philosophy I had at the time was compatible with that of a med student. And that held all through school, and the first few weeks at CFB Petawawa, and then I shipped out, and things just, got a lot less black and white." 

"He couldn't handle that?" he asked, no censure in his voice. 

"If it had been only that, he might have adapted. But," Alex paused, wetting his lips, the flicker of tongue just barely visible with the angle of his head. "I loved my job, Michael. It wasn't without its issues, but what is? So I went away a reluctant recruit, and I came back proud Air Force. It didn't go down well. We tried to make it work, for a while, but when I got my orders for my next deployment, I just broke it off. It was easier on both of us that way." 

Maybe it was the alcohol, or the intimacy of the night, cuddled up in a warm bath with a snowstorm raging outside. Maybe it was a knock-on effect from the other night; a new level of trust because Michael hadn't pushed, had instead given him the space he'd needed. Michael didn't know. But it was a far more detailed answer than he'd anticipated receiving, and he responded in kind. 

"Jo and I broke up because she wanted marriage and kids ASAP, and I wasn't prepared to give her that. Not long after we split, we were both at this party, and I introduced her to a drinking buddy of mine, someone in a different programme who I had the occasional beer and bitch session with in the Grad Pub." His voice dropped, the contemplative air wearing away into faded pain. "About six months after the party, she was pregnant and they were planning a wedding." He pressed a kiss into Alex's hair, noticing it had curled slightly in the humidity. "They're really happy, and I'm happy for them, truly, but it was fucking hard going for a while." 

There was pressure against his shoulder as Alex tilted his head, eyes closed and lips parting. Michael wasn't clear if it was an invitation or an order but he followed it anyway, touching his lips to Alex's in the gentlest of kisses. He didn't have words for the way it felt. 

"I would have stayed in if I hadn't gotten blown up. I had the option of a desk job after, but it didn't sit right. I decided a clean break would be best and I took the honourable discharge." 

"Now you have a different job you love. Two of them. With sleeping in options," he teased quietly, smiling at the chuckle it earned him. 

"Yeah. I do," Alex agreed. He'd shifted to face forward again, neither man able to see the other's expression. "With Jo, was it the timing? Or something else?" 

"Both?" It was true, but... "Marriage is... I don't have strong feelings either way, really. If it had been just that, I probably would have done it, even not feeling ready exactly. But kids... Kids are a dealbreaker for me. I realised that then. Hadn't thought about it in depth before Jo was issuing ultimatums and it kind of crashed in that I don't want children." He swallowed hard, knowing Alex would be able to feel the tension in his body and the pounding of his heart. Was he about to lose this man, a few days before Christmas? "I'm already married to my research and I'm not giving it up. There's space for adult relationships in my life, but otherwise, I just want to be crazy Uncle Mike with the cool toys, you know?" 

"I know," Alex told him, compassion saturating the words. "I guess I feel about kids kind of like how you feel about marriage: take it or leave it, depending on my partner. I already have a tonne of nieces and nephews from my brothers; I don't feel the need to add to the pile." 

"Really?" Relief sharpened his voice and hope broke it. 

"Really, Michael, yes." He sat up, water sheeting from his skin as he turned in place, moving to straddle Michael's lap in a mirror image of their usual couch position. "I'm happy with you. Just you. Wherever that ends up taking the two of us." 

Michael bit back a phrase he was nowhere near ready to say and kissed Alex instead, letting his body convey his gratitude and the other nameless things he couldn't express aloud. For a man without much of a filter between brain and tongue, Michael had some hard limits, too, set in stone by some of the bitterest lessons. 

"Water's getting cool," Alex murmured when the kiss ended. "Let's move this to the bedroom, hm?"

"Yeah. Do you want to float back to the bar end, and I'll pull the lever to start emptying the tub once you're out?" It was going to be a lot easier for Alex to move around in the water. 

"Sounds good." He gave Michael another quick kiss and shifted off his lap and away. 

If Michael had thought the view was nice when Alex had gotten into the tub, it was nothing compared to watching him haul himself out, water cascading down and highlighting each flexed muscle. "Jesus Christ, you're beautiful." 

"You are very good for my ego," Alex scoffed, a hint of colour appearing high on his cheeks as he reached for a towel. 

"Hey, I call it like I see it, you know that." 

"Mm." It was all the acknowledgement he was getting and Michael grinned as he leaned forward to pull the lever, feeling the water level begin to drop. He waited for Alex to finish towelling off and leave on his crutches, before standing up to get his own towel and begin drying off. 

When he entered the bedroom, the faerie lights were on and Alex was in the bed, with only dark hair visible. Michael had a sneaking suspicion and called softly, "Alex?" At the total lack of response, he chuckled, turning off the lights before sliding under the covers. 

The movement must have alerted Alex because an arm banded around Michael's stomach, pulling him back to lie flush against Alex's chest. Michael tried his name again, getting a grunt in reply this time, indicating Alex wasn't actually awake. He'd roused enough to put Michael where he wanted him and dropped back off. 

It was closer than they usually slept; Alex usually liked more space. That and his earlier disclosures told Michael that the alcohol had been more of a factor than he'd thought. He hoped that wouldn't mean Alex was sorry about it in the morning, but Michael couldn't bring himself to regret it even if Alex did. He had an answer to a question he hadn't even considered asking yet - it had seemed too soon - and it was one that removed any need to hold back. Not that he had been, at least he didn't think he had, not with Alex, anyway. But there were certain paths in Michael's mind, dusty with disuse, where he hadn't allowed himself to wander. He could, now. If he wanted to. 

He thought back to his recent conversation with Maria, cranky and anxious in her snowy backyard, and the understanding she'd given him when he'd attempted to explain how he felt about Alex. 

_Sometimes you just know._

[end chapter ten]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I meant to share these last chapter. I got asked about this series on Tumblr last month, so if you're curious about the creative process, etc, involved, here you go: 
> 
> [Director's Cut](https://tasyfa.tumblr.com/post/190425725064/for-the-fanfic-directors-cut-i-reeeeeally-would)
> 
> [Follow-up to Director's Cut](https://tasyfa.tumblr.com/post/190426747764/as-a-follow-up-on-the-directors-cut-for-spinning)
> 
> [Another question](https://tasyfa.tumblr.com/post/190654817714/5-9-10-5-share-one-of-your)
> 
> Happy to answer questions in the comments! I'm avoiding Tumblr atm because I don't want to be spoiled for ANYTHING before I get to watch the S02 premiere myself. I'd appreciate that being respected here too, please. <3


	11. Sunshine and Pancakes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title is the name of a perfume by 4160Tuesdays.   
~ Tas

The room was unreasonably bright when Michael blinked awake, finding himself alone and awash in sunlight. He'd obviously forgotten to pull the blinds across and the snow was reflecting everywhere. 

He dragged himself out of bed, squinting as he got the blinds in place. The snow on the terrace was sculpted into pristine waves. He'd brush it away from the doors later, before he took a hot shower. 

Pulling on some clothes, he hit the bathroom then found Alex on the couch, frowning at his phone with the TV on. "Morning." 

"Mm. I think there's still some coffee but please make more." 

Michael bit his lip against a grin. "Feeling delicate, are we?" 

A reluctant laugh. "Not so much anymore, after coffee, food, PT, and a shower." 

"You've been up a while then," he observed. There was a little liquid left but Michael opted to discard it and start a fresh pot. 

"Couple of hours. Much as I would have liked to sleep longer, it just wasn't happening," he sighed. 

Michael offered him a sympathetic smile as he approached. "You can have a nap later, maybe. After we relocate, assuming we are?" 

"Oh, we're not going anywhere today. I've been watching the Weather Channel. It's sunny now but it's going to start up again by noon and snow most of the day, so I think it best we stay put and reevaluate tomorrow." He put the phone aside and patted his thighs, and Michael slid onto his lap. "Thank you for the bread, by the way." 

"Can't make toast without it," he smiled. 

"I know, and I appreciate the thoughtfulness." His arms went around Michael, hands settling at the small of his back, underneath the T-shirt. Alex's palms were warm enough but his fingertips were chilly, one set moreso than the other. 

Michael chuckled. "I can tell you've been playing on your phone. Your scrolling hand is cold." 

"Why do you think I've got my hands up your shirt?" he countered with a grin. 

"Oh, so now I'm your personal heater?" 

"Uh-huh. Personal heater," he paused for a kiss as Michael leaned forward in answer to the encouragement of those hands, "personal coffeemaker, personal love slave..." 

"No, no," Michael protested, laughing. "No slavery. I am... your personal slut." 

He watched Alex's reaction closely, noting the surprise and also the way his eyes darkened. Bullseye. "Is that a word you like, Michael?" 

"In the bedroom or whatever, yeah. Yeah, I do," he admitted, desire frissoning down his spine at the slow smile. 

"I'll remember that." Alex pushed up to capture his mouth and Michael melted against him, wrapping his arms around Alex's shoulders. 

"Mm, here." Alex disengaged enough to guide Michael's hand into his hair. "You seemed to like playing with it." 

"I did, yeah. I mean, I do," he corrected, pleased at the permission. "Uh, just hold, or," Michael ended the question with a laugh when Alex raised his eyebrows. "Let me rephrase: how hard do you like it pulled?" 

"I'll let you know if it's too much." 

Chuckling, Michael shook his head. "Is there anything you actually prefer gentle?" 

"Sure," he answered easily. The accompanying smirk was pure mischief. "When my balls are involved." 

"Fair enough," Michael rolled his eyes. He tightened his fingers, tugging lightly, mindful that Alex was a little hungover yet. The guttural noise the move elicited went straight to Michael's cock, and then they were kissing again without him knowing exactly when they'd started. 

He tensed at the hand slipping down the back of his joggers, fingers extended, and Alex murmured, "Relax. I wouldn't, dry." 

"Okay," he whispered, arching a little to improve access. 

"Good boy," and Michael could not have said if it was the intimate touch or the praise that had him moaning. "That's it exactly." 

Michael settled back into the kisses as long fingers, warm now, rubbed over and around his hole, the pressure feather light but very much present and becoming more so with every delicate pass. He didn't notice his hips beginning to move, undulating to the rhythm of Alex's fingers.

When the gradual build of sensation hit frantic, though, Michael noticed, breaking off mid-kiss with a startled whine. "Fuck, Alex, I really need you to finger me," his tone low and urgent. 

"What? I ca---" Alex halted the protest at whatever he saw in Michael's face and used his other hand to pat the seam between couch arm and cushion. "Shit, I didn't think of it this morning. Michael," he grasped Michael's chin, holding him still to make eye contact. "Michael. Go into the bedroom. The lube is in the night table drawer. Get it, and come right back here." 

He nodded, already in motion. At another time, the simplistic directions to a storage spot he'd had long before he'd even met Alex might have seemed condescending; at the moment, the precision was what he needed. 

Scant minutes later, Michael handed the bottle to Alex and reprised his position astride Alex's lap. His feet hooked around the inside of Alex's knees, pulling his thighs apart to force his own legs wider. 

"You're earning that title today, treasure," Alex told him, slicking his fingers and taking far too long in Michael's opinion. He huffed impatiently; a slight smirk was the only response as Alex kept on until he was satisfied with the slip factor, and wedged the closed bottle beside the couch cushion. Then he looked up, watching Michael as he used his dry hand to pull aside the fabric covering Michael's ass so his wet hand could press down unimpeded onto bare flesh. 

"Yes," Michael hissed as slippery fingertips reached his hole... and kept going. He let out a frustrated sigh. "Alex!" 

"Oh, you're not getting fingered until you sound the way you did before, like you might die if you don't get fucked." True to his word, he picked up where he'd left off, with the same kind of rubbing motion, and Michael whined. 

"Bastard." 

Genuine amusement shaded his low laugh. "You knew that before you climbed on and spread your legs for me." 

"You got me there." 

"And there," Alex pressed hard over his hole for just a moment and Michael sucked in a breath, "and there..." he cupped Michael's cock and squeezed, letting go on Michael's next inhalation. 

"Like I said, bastard," but it was shaky now, lacking in conviction. 

Alex lifted his hand to trace Michael's lips, parting under his touch to allow the push of fingers - into the wrong place, in Michael's opinion, but he took them nonetheless, sucking eagerly even as the _lack_ of a matching action made his body throb. 

"We both know you love it. Because you’re my perfect, personal slut, and you take what I give you." His eyes glittered as he spoke, quiet surety infusing his voice, and Michael whimpered, caught by Alex's intense gaze as much as by his hands. He couldn't speak his offer of himself but he tried to convey it with his eyes and hoped it was understood. 

The first shiver of real need coasted through him and Michael could hear it in his own moan. So could Alex, his tongue sweeping over his bottom lip as he watched Michael's mouth work over his hand. The steady movement of the other didn't change. 

As it built, Michael forgot to suck, unable to sustain enough focus. In response, Alex shoved all four fingers into his mouth, setting his own rhythm as his other hand continued to simply rub, slick and wet and maddening. 

The spike into pure, frantic need was as unexpected as it had been the first time and Michael's breath sobbed, words he couldn't have gotten past Alex's hand anyway lodged in his throat. He swallowed reflexively, teeth scraping knuckles as a flood of muffled cries escaped, and his eyes scrunched closed, overwhelmed. 

"There we are," the utterance short but dripping in satisfaction and desire. For endless moments, nothing changed, and tears prickled under Michael's eyelids. 

They fell in sheer relief when Alex finally gave him what he needed, two fingers thrusting into his ass, no preamble, no holding back once he started. Michael rocked in place, encouraging, wanting it all. 

At some point, Alex asked, "Can you come like this? No wrong answers," and Michael gave a tiny head shake, all he could manage with his mouth stuffed full. "I want you to jerk yourself off, then. But keep it in your pants." He leaned in, close enough for Michael to feel the exhale across his cheek. "So eager that you never even thought about taking your pants off. I want you to come in them and wear them until I say you can take them off, as a reminder of what a good boy you've been." 

Michael whimpered, fresh tears coursing down his face as he reached into his joggers. The angle was awkward without being able to get his dick out and he used his other hand to hike up the waistband and hold it in place while he curled his palm around his erection and began to stroke, choking out moans around the fingers in his mouth. 

The heavy approval in Alex's voice assuaged any worries about the waistband compromise. "Fuck, Michael, I could almost come just from watching you. You’re so gorgeous, treasure." 

No telling what it did for Alex but Michael basked in what Alex had said and the way he'd said it, and the achingly clear desire _for him_ was a potent hit that sent him soaring, spilling into the worn softness of his joggers. 

The fingers in his mouth withdrew, replaced by the soft brush of lips over his as Michael panted. He let go of his cock, wiping off on the inside of the fabric before he brought his hands up to Alex's shoulders, swaying closer with a sniffle. 

"You can relax, c'mon," Alex soothed, and Michael took it at face value, all but collapsing against his chest. Alex still had his fingers buried in Michael's body, albeit just holding there now. It was weirdly comforting. 

"Can you stay?" he asked, smiling at the fond laugh. It wasn't what Michael meant - they'd already talked about both of them staying in the apartment for the entire day because of the weather - but it was what exited his uncooperative mouth. 

"If you mean this," Alex wiggled his fingers a bit, "then yeah, I'll keep 'em there a little while longer. It seems prudent; that was intense." Michael made a sound of agreement, prompting Alex to add, "Is it usually ---"

"New," he grunted, cutting off the question. 

"Oh, so, completely new. Okay, I'll park the questions for later." 

"Thanks." 

The room was quiet for a few minutes save for their breathing, Alex's nice and steady, and Michael's getting there. Eventually Alex spoke, "Lube's getting sticky." 

Michael nodded against his shoulder. "It's fine, yeah. Pull out." Alex did and it really was fine, just a normal jolt of adjustment instead of the yawning spiral Michael suspected it would have been if done immediately. He sighed, relief obvious, and Alex chuckled. 

"That sounds like a man who wants the breakfast I distracted him from." 

"Yeah," he echoed the laugh. "You first, though." 

"Well, yeah, I already ate," Alex said, confused. 

"No, I mean, I wanna do you before I have breakfast." Before Alex could launch into some objection, Michael added, "I can feel you, Alex. Your dick is practically reaching my navel." 

It made him laugh and Michael grinned. "That's a, well, more than a slight exaggeration, Michael. Your navel's all the way up here." 

"Maybe," he allowed, "but you can't tell me you aren't hard as a rock. Last night you said that a blowjob was straightforward enough I could do it drunk. And, you said I could give you one but then _you_ got drunk and you went to sleep instead." 

The initial silence didn't worry Michael; he could feel Alex shaking with silent laughter. "Did you seriously just try to guilt trip me into letting you blow me?" 

"I don't know. Is it working?" 

He let out a loud laugh. "Asking works, Michael. Get on the floor." 

"Oh." He pressed a quick kiss to that smiling mouth and went to stand, finding he needed to untangle his feet from Alex's legs first. Michael didn't remember doing that but it didn't matter other than it taking him a bit longer to get into position. 

Then he was kneeling and tugging Alex's clothes out of the way, impatient with the barrier, and Alex let him, let him pull it all down to pool around his ankle, let him ease Alex forward to perch on the edge of the couch, let him push both legs wide and nuzzle in, trailing kisses up soft inner thighs, palms following behind. 

"Michael," it was half sigh and he looked up with an inquisitive sound. "Bite." 

Michael smiled, smoothing his thumb over the chosen spot, and when no further instructions were given, he set his teeth there and bit down. Out of the corner of his eye, he caught the interested twitch of Alex's cock even as a soft groan drifted to his ears. He sucked hard on the patch of skin in his mouth to work up a vivid mark. 

A restless hand landed in his hair and soon tugged him away and Michael regarded the irregular purple shape on Alex's thigh, the imprint of his teeth visible at the edges. He glanced up, smiling. "I like marking you. It feels good." 

"It does," Alex agreed, his own smile soft, in contrast with the heat in his gaze. "Maybe we'll do that tomorrow, mark each other up as kind of a memento before I head east for Christmas." 

"Please?" he found himself asking before even thinking about it. 

Alex simply nodded, his hand dropping to brush Michael's cheek, and Michael pressed a kiss to his palm. Then Alex's thumb was at his mouth, parting his lips. He gave way easily and followed the tug when the rest of Alex's fingers curled under his chin and guided him forward and down. 

The taste was what Michael had been craving since the oysters last night, indistinguishable from the feel of Alex thick and heavy on his tongue. He knew Alex didn't have the necessary leverage here to fuck his mouth so it was all on Michael. A fact Alex confirmed, "Make me come, treasure, however you like as long as you don't stop and you don't tease." 

An order he liked very much indeed. Michael slipped his arms under Alex's thighs, hands framing Alex's hips and holding tight as he began to bob his head, using the grip to pull himself down in a move that felt similar to a thrust. He appreciated the way Alex allowed his legs to close around Michael, his foot bracing against Michael's back. It emphasised the approval evident in his soft sounds and the fingers anchored in Michael's hair. 

It wasn't finesse; it was full on, designed to get Alex there fast and hard, and it worked. He got a heel to the spine and a shout, and then he was swallowing everything Alex had to give. 

He gentled the suction, after, but he didn't stop until Alex pulled him away and spoke, breathless, "I might actually need that nap." 

Michael smirked up at him. "I think that can be arranged." 

"Later. You need to eat and I don't want you using appliances yet. I noticed you have eggs in the fridge; scrambled okay? I could do with food, too." 

Michael wanted to protest that he was fine, but Alex had one eyebrow raised and a skeptical expression already. It wasn't fair. Alex had his pants around his ankle, T-shirt rucked up to mid-chest, and hair going every which way, yet he managed to look both concerned and stern five minutes post orgasm. Not even five. 

Pursing his lips, Michael sighed. "Scrambled is good, yeah. Would you like me to get it ready? I can whisk, no problem." 

His own struggle must have been as visible as the one on Alex's face now. Maybe the visual of Michael kneeling there helped him, similar to the way it had helped Michael to have that awareness of Alex from his position on the floor, because Alex finally nodded, "Yeah, that'd be nice. Thank you." 

"I'll get you some coffee first. Should still be hot, I mean, I don't _think_ we took over two hours," Michael winked, gratified by the resulting chuckle. 

"No, treasure, we did not." He began to sort out getting re-dressed as Michael stood and moved away, immediately conscious of the drying mess in his joggers. It wasn't the nicest physical feeling, and he was probably going to need to peel them off once he had permission, but the memory of the words made him smile. 

Alex was pleased with him. Who cared about the rest? 

[end chapter eleven]


	12. Steel-coated Marshmallow

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is not where I expected this to go (yet) but damn I'm happy it did! Hopefully y'all will be, too. Three guesses who the title refers to, and the first two don't count. :D  
ETA: sorry, content warning for discussion of violence / injury. Not too detailed. I forgot bc this fic generally only has Adult Content type content!   
~ Tas

"And that's everything, except the last minute stuff like my toothbrush," Alex declared as he zipped up the suitcase where it rested on top of the bed.

"So one carry-on for the week? You travel light," Michael observed. 

"Well, plus the messenger bag with my laptop, but yeah. I can do laundry at my dad's." He set the case onto its wheels on the floor, pushing it against the wall, out of the way, and stood up to stretch. 

"I usually end up checking a bag. Too many things people want me to bring them, like Cadbury chocolate bars. Isobel discovered Caramilk her first visit and went and got Liz hooked." 

Alex chuckled. "That really isn't applicable for me."

"True. I mean, it's only a two hour domestic flight." It still seemed weird, how fast Alex could pack and how little he actually put in there, but Michael supposed both were products of years in the military. "So are you looking forward to going home?" 

"It's not home," he refuted instantly, surprising them both. Alex half rolled his eyes, lids closing in a long blink, and sighed. "It isn't home, anymore. I realised that when I was recovering from losing my leg. It's just a house. And the town is just a town. I don't belong there." 

"But you're still going back for Christmas," he phrased it carefully, and Alex nodded. 

"This is the first Christmas since I moved here, so it seemed appropriate when I bought the plane ticket," he shrugged. 

"You don't want to go," Michael realised, and Alex grimaced. 

"It's more accurate to say I'm not excited about going. Like, I'm not dreading it or anxious about it; it's just kind of there. Does that make any sense?" 

"It's a family obligation," Michael supplied, to be rewarded with a relieved smile. 

"Yes, exactly, thank you for articulating it," he gestured in emphasis. 

Obligation, Michael understood. "I went back to Roswell for Christmas at first. The flight was my present from my parents, ostensibly as a nod to my student finances but really more of a way to make sure I couldn't wiggle out of it."

"Did you want to?" 

Michael considered Alex's expression, a mix of hopeful and wary, and his own thoughts, and smiled. "Listen. You’re all packed now. Why don't you get comfy while I grab us a couple of beers and we can talk about it?" 

His ploy to get Alex off his leg was completely transparent but still left the decision to Alex, who gave him an unimpressed look then nodded. "A beer sounds good. You can tell me about Christmas, and we can discuss your ass." 

And there was the catch. Michael huffed a laugh. "Deal." 

He hopped off the bed and headed to the fridge. Pulling two bottles out, he twisted off and discarded the caps, then ducked back in for the salsa. The container went in the middle of a large plate and he dumped half a bag of tortilla chips into the empty space. 

It was a poor substitute for what he'd grown up with, but it was still one of the better snacks going. 

Plate in one hand, bottles in the other, he got to the couch just as Alex started over on his crutches, giving Michael the chance to put everything down and take a seat. 

"Snacks, too," Alex observed, reaching for a tortilla chip and scooping up salsa once he'd sat down. "I'm so glad you told me where to get good salsa. I don't think I've seen anyone so offended by food before." 

"Alex, you had a jar of Old El Paso. No. Just, no," Michael spoke decisively, smiling at Alex's grin. 

"Is that what you do when you go back? Spend all your time eating?" 

"A lot of it," Michael admitted. "Liz's family owns a diner in town. I spent a lot of time there as a teenager, even after Max had gone off to college." 

"Let me guess: Liz worked there?" 

"See? You know everything you need to know about my brother," he replied, and they both laughed. "She did. But to be fair, there weren't many places for teenagers to hang out, especially those of us who did not want to go shopping." 

Alex nodded. "We were rural enough that we usually ended up swimming in the lake, or hiking. Cross-country skiing sometimes in winter. Skating if the lake froze solid enough." 

"Boy Scout territory," Michael teased, raising his eyebrows. 

"Pretty much. I did go to Beavers, and Cub Scouts for a year, but then I got into music lessons. Piano first." Alex stretched his fingers wide with a laugh. "Guitar once my hands were a little bigger." 

"I learned to play guitar from one of the other trail guides at the ranch. We'd hang out around a campfire sometimes after the tourists went home and he figured if I was gonna sit there and fidget, I might as well do it melodically," Michael chuckled. 

"Nice. Were your campfires also prone to underage drinking?" Alex tipped his bottle towards Michael to further illustrate the point. 

"Not on the ranch, no. I might have been the youngest, actually, or tied for it with one of the other part-timers, so it was all very wholesome," he huffed a laugh. "Elsewhere, yeah, there was some of that. Harder to come by when the legal age is twenty-one, compared to nineteen, I'm guessing." 

"Wouldn't know," Alex shrugged, a supremely cynical slant to his smile. "Since the youngest of my brothers was twelve when I was born, he was more than old enough to be legal everywhere by the time I was bugging him to buy liquor for me." 

"Good point. I hadn't thought about that. He would have been, like, around our age, more or less." 

"Yep," he popped the final consonant. "I didn't think there was anything weird about it at the time, or no weirder than the age gap was already, but looking at it from this end, I'm fairly positive I'd do it differently." He seemed pensive, in a way that made Michael want to reach for him but that also made him wary of doing so. 

Eventually, Michael ventured, "Did it end up being a problem?" He hadn't noticed anything off or excessive about Alex's drinking habits, but Michael didn't live with him, either. 

"Nothing like that," Alex reassured, his smile brightening as he brought his attention back to the here and now. "I mean, it might have turned into one? If I'd kept hanging around the same people and doing that kind of shit? But it was around then that I got a skateboard, and Cam got her driver's licence, so we started escaping to a skate park instead." 

"Sounds healthier." 

This time, Alex's laugh held mirth, the momentary dark cloud floating away. "Much, yeah. I kind of look at that as the beginning of my escape, now. Which I guess is an ongoing process, but what isn't, right?" 

And that brought it back round to the holidays. "I originally came here in September, and the only person I even sort of knew was my thesis advisor. So going home for Christmas was a no-brainer. But the second year, it was harder; I had a life here, and it was very different to what I'd grown up with, so it felt like climbing back into the childhood box. The third time, Isobel talked me into because she'd only just moved to Toronto and it was _her_ first Christmas away," he spread his hands, indicating the lack of choice. "And that was it. Isobel and Maria got married, and Maria’s family is local, so Iz transitioned into those holiday traditions and I willingly went along for the ride."

"I'm a blend of years two and three, I guess," Alex nodded slowly. "Where RMC is in a different province and then being deployed overseas, I had a significant taste of life elsewhere before I ended up back in Dad's house, learning how to walk again. I've been in Toronto about three quarters of the year, so I do feel pretty settled, like you said." His sudden smile dazzled. "You know you're part of that, right?" 

Michael couldn't help the answering grin but he kept his tone light, teasing, "I should hope so!" 

Alex rolled his eyes but he laughed, too, and it felt good, the way it always did when Michael could pull that sound out of him. "Well, thank you. I feel better about being reluctant to go." 

"Good," Michael replied simply, scooping up the remaining salsa. Alex had been eating while listening, so Michael didn't mind taking the last bite. He washed it down with beer and set the bottle on the coffee table beside Alex's, aware of the dark eyes following his movements. "So, uh..." he trailed off, unsure how to approach the other topic. 

Probably the first time in Michael's life it'd been easier to talk about family than sex. 

Alex chuckled. "Relax, treasure, I'm not going to interrogate you." 

"Okay," he smiled. "Do you want me in your lap, or...?" 

"No, stand up," Alex gestured, and Michael got to his feet, watching as Alex stretched out, emitting a quiet groan before he relaxed, legs parting enough for Michael to slot in between. "Come here, lie down." 

"You sure?" he checked; usually Michael was the one underneath if they were horizontal. But he supposed there was usually also the intention to do more than talk. He took the nod at face value and carefully arranged himself over Alex, pillowing his head on Alex's upper chest, tucked under his chin. 

"Yeah, this is nice," Alex sighed, one hand beginning lazy strokes over Michael's spine. 

"Uh-huh," he agreed, any tension dissolving under the soothing touch. "You will have no one but yourself to blame if I fall asleep on top of you." He smiled at the rumble of laughter under his ear. 

"That's fair." The only sound at first was their breathing, slowly synchronising, then Alex finally spoke, soft and low. "You said yesterday that was new to you, finding yourself needing to be fingered." 

"Yeah. I think... Well, I think it just hasn't come up before, because if someone's got a hand down the back of my pants, like, fingering is the point of that, normally. I can't remember any other time it's been just friction there." He'd been thinking about it off and on since, trying to figure out if it was a new reaction or a new activity, and had landed on the latter explanation. 

"Hm, true. What about when you flinched?" His tone was careful and Michael realised what he was thinking. 

"Oh, no, that - it wasn't a bad experience, in the sense of being a problem. It was just two stupid kids who didn't know enough about lube. I haven't even thought about it for years, because it wasn't important or horrible or anything, but I guess my ass still has an opinion," he said ruefully. 

"Good to know," his smile was audible. "What about in the context of a rim job? Never felt that kind of need then?" 

"No?" questioning it himself as he considered. "It's probably the same, though. It's usually a mix of licking and tongue fucking, so I'd guess it doesn't get a chance to build?" He shrugged. "I've been on the giving side more often, though, with previous partners, so maybe I don't have enough data." 

"I can understand that." A low chuckle accompanied the kiss pressed into his hair. "You do some amazing things with that mouth." 

Michael smiled, pleased. "Thank you." 

"It's literally my pleasure, Michael," and they both laughed. "Have you had a vibrator used on you?" 

"Uh, butt plugs, but not externally, I don't think. Or not for very long before insertion." 

"All right. Thank you for your honesty, as ever." More approval and Michael's smile widened. 

The hard ridge of Alex's erection pressed against Michael's stomach and he couldn't resist asking, "So is it a wishlist or a to-do list you're mentally compiling?" 

"I'm adding items to my to-do list, Michael. Do you want to know what it's called?" That tone should be a sin, shivering over Michael's body in pleasant tingles. 

"Yes, please," he whispered, and it both was and wasn't a surprise when Alex anchored a hand in his hair and pulled Michael's head up, capturing his gaze with pure fire. 

"All the ways I'm going to fucking _wreck_ you." 

Michael whimpered at the intensity of words, voice, eyes combined, and moved into place to be kissed, following the non-verbal directions Alex was giving him, moaning as their lips met. He shifted upwards a little to make it easier, catching the ragged breath from Alex as that brought them groin to groin. 

The kiss was sloppy, at an imperfect angle, but it was so good, and so was the feel of grinding against each other - at least until a hard shudder ran through Alex and he ordered, "Sit up, Michael. Up," an edge of panic to the repetition that had Michael scrambling back to give him space. 

Alex lay there for a couple of minutes, hand flat over the rapid rise and fall of his chest, eyes closed as he brought his breathing under control. Michael was slightly uncomfortable to realise he found it hot, but it wasn't like his dick could distinguish between varieties of control. He remained quiet, letting Alex work through it himself. 

Eventually Alex's eyes fluttered open and he looked around, smiling softly when his gaze landed on Michael's. "Hey. Thanks, for moving so fast. I, that was," he paused, shaking his head at himself, and continued, self-deprecating, "fucking stupid, is what that was. But you do make me stupid sometimes, treasure." 

Michael laughed, incredulous. "I guess it's good it's mutual?" 

"Yeah," he smiled. "Anyway, I'm sorry. I should have known better. Well, I do know better; I just got distracted by a gorgeous man." 

The compliment made Michael smile but he tilted his head and asked quietly, "Would you tell me about it? Please?" 

He kept the eye contact, trying to project sincerity, letting Alex see whatever he needed to. With a faint smile, Alex capitulated, "That used to be my favourite, um, chilling out position. There's no special reason why; I've just always liked it. Something about the head on chest and heartbeats. And when we were talking, it was great, exactly what I wanted. Then I got caught up in... Us, I guess, and forgot to be careful." 

"Claustrophobia?" 

His mouth twisted, gaze shifting to a point over Michael's shoulder. "Kind of. Most limb loss in combat nowadays is due to IEDs, usually during transport. Mine was in a building that was supposed to have been cleared, but they missed something and when it blew, I got thrown into a wall and it came down on me." His voice remained even, as if he were telling any old tale, but he directed his gaze low, now, lashes forming a visual barrier. "At that, I was lucky. We were in friendly territory so I got medical care right away. Couldn’t do anything about my leg, though; it got crushed." 

Michael simply nodded. He hardly dared breathe, never mind speak; he didn't want to interrupt the flow. 

"Anyway, that's the story. Oh, except this." His hands went to his hair as he turned his head and Michael could see him feeling for a particular spot with his fingertips. He found it and parted his hair, revealing a jagged scar. Michael had never noticed it but then, Alex had thick hair, on the longer side, and he'd only just started letting Michael put his hands in it, so that wasn't as surprising as it could have been. "I shaved my head entirely while that was healing. I don't recommend it. Really fucking itchy growing in." 

It startled Michael into a laugh, which made Alex grin at him in turn. "I'll keep that in mind. Bald is not a good look on me. I went as Professor X for Halloween once, did the whole bald cap and spirit gum thing." He chuckled, remembering, "The hilarious part was, hardly anyone knew it was me. Apparently a lot of people recognise me by my curls." 

"I could see that," Alex offered with an answering chuckle, and then Michael had to catch his breath as Alex sat up in one fluid motion. "What?" 

"Oh, it's not, I mean, it maybe isn't appropriate right now," he prevaricated, surrendering to the subsequent raised eyebrow. "I was just thinking that was hot even with a shirt on." 

"I see." He looked amused, then thoughtful, and then mischief flashed over Alex's face and he pulled his shirt over his head, dropping it on the floor as he lowered his torso to the couch surface. 

Michael watched the muscles in Alex's abdomen flex and stretch as his back touched the fabric, then contract in smooth stages as Alex sat up, far more gradually this time. "Fuck," he managed, and Alex laughed. 

"I don't think I'll ever get tired of the way you look at me," he admitted, smiling, and maybe it had been exactly the right thing for Michael to say after all, because the last thing he'd expected was to hear his own feelings mirrored like that. 

"Same here," Michael told him, watching his smile flare bright. 

"Thank you, for listening, and for," he stumbled over the next word, whatever it had been, mouth working silently for a moment. Alex raised a hand to cradle Michael's cheek and looked at him, the emotion in his dark eyes holding Michael in place as surely as the hand. "For being you." 

All things considered, Michael didn't need a better explanation than that tonight. 

[end chapter twelve]


	13. Jingle

"Where's this boy of yours, then?" was the first thing out of Maria's mother's mouth as she drew back from giving Michael an enthusiastic hug. 

"Mom!" Maria scolded, shutting the coat closet door with more force than was strictly necessary. 

Michael laughed. "It's fine, Maria. He is back East, with his dad and brothers," he told the older woman, offering her his arm. She took it, her hand curling around his elbow, and gifted Michael with a brilliant smile as they walked to the kitchen. The other family members who'd trickled in already were in the living room, but Michael had learned that Mimi liked working alongside Maria, lending an extra pair of hands. Not being here until after noon was the arrangement they'd agreed on when Maria and Isobel had taken over hosting Christmas dinner. 

"Eggnog, Mom?" Maria asked, already pulling the pitcher out of the fridge. 

"Of course, sweetheart. You know I love your recipe." 

"Michael, you want an extra shot of rum to get you through the inquisition?" she teased, pouring two glasses. 

He laughed. "I'm good, Mare." 

"On your head be it, then." She placed the glasses on the table in front of them. 

"Thank you. Now, what needs doing?" Mimi enquired after taking a sip and smiling in approval. 

"Uhhh, I'm doing the pie filling; I already blind-baked the crusts, so, nothing else right now, Mom. You visit with Michael." He didn't duck away fast enough to avoid Maria pinching his cheek and she laughed, patting his shoulder. "You're on refill duty, babe." 

Michael tilted his glass towards Maria in acknowledgement then smiled at Mimi. "My contribution was chopping vegetables, which is all they ever let me do." 

She chuckled. "I'm sure you do enough at home, no? Do you cook or does Alex?" 

"Me, usually, yeah. His turn tends to be takeout or go out," he huffed a laugh. "He's not incompetent in the kitchen, just disinterested. Plus, standing in one spot for a long time is hard on his leg, so there's that, too." 

"Oh, yes, Maria told me he was ex-Forces; he was injured in Iraq, wasn't he?" 

"He was," Michael confirmed, thinking back to the unexpected revelation of those details. A couple of days on and it still felt almost surreal that Alex had been so forthcoming. But Michael had gotten a tight hug and a lingering kiss goodbye when he'd dropped Alex at the airport, so he figured Alex being more open over the weekend had maybe been kind of like missing Michael in advance of actually leaving. Time would tell, he supposed. In the here and now, he added, "He's a musician and cyber security guy, these days." 

"Mm-hm, Maria mentioned she introduced you two when he was playing at her establishment." 

He suppressed the laugh; it did make for a more socially acceptable story than, 'I picked him up in a bar and forgot to tell him my name'. "Uh, yeah, she did. We went on a date the next night, and we've been together ever since." 

Mimi beamed at him. "That's lovely, Michael. So, tell me about him." 

"I just did?" he blinked in confusion. 

"You've mentioned what he does, honey. I want to know about who he is." She finished the eggnog and Michael took the glass. 

"Oh. Okay, let me," he gestured and, when she nodded, topped up both their drinks. The extra shot of rum was a more appealing idea this time around, but he didn't want to get too comfortable and totally run his mouth off, either, so he skipped it. 

Tapping his fingers on the table once re-seated, Michael began, "Well, he's really smart, to start with. Like, the knowledge he has about computers is crazy." 

"He can keep up with you, then," she posited, and Michael laughed.

"Yeah, he can. He worked with some engineers in the Air Force, so, like, the way I think isn't foreign to him, you know? And we both like math, and music obviously, so there's some overlap there." It was kind of nice to talk about Alex this way, with someone who was genuinely interested in everything. Not that his friends weren't, but it was different. Isobel and Maria, different yet again; they had a mother hen approach, especially his sister. But Mimi was someone who simply liked _people_.

"Do you tell each other those terrible math jokes?" she asked, eyes sparkling. 

"It may have come up now and again," Michael hedged, caving when she raised an eyebrow. "Okay, yes, yes we do sometimes." 

"I thought you might." The smug tinge to the statement had them both laughing. "What else, Michael?" 

"He is... protective, but, like, in a non-invasive way? It's more like, making me aware there's a safety net if I need one, not trying to hold my hand or pull me in any particular direction." It was one of those things that had started in the bedroom, with rules and safewords and negotiations, but it had stretched past that to colour the entire relationship. 

Maria's giggle reminded him of her presence. "Oh, so the opposite of your sister, then." 

"Well, yeah," he couldn't deny it. "But I know she's never going to not see me as her little brother, and, I mean, I _am_, so I get it, right? It's different with Alex, though." 

"He treats you like an equal," Mimi nodded. 

"Yeah." Michael kept the surprise out of his voice. He hadn't thought of it that way. It almost seemed counterintuitive, thinking of himself as Alex's equal when Alex was his dom. But... being submissive didn't make him lesser than Alex, and Alex had never treated him as though it did. "We're partners. We take care of each other." 

"Good." There was such satisfaction in her tone, it took Michael aback to realise she'd been worrying about him. His gaze cut to Maria, who shrugged as if to say, whaddya gonna do? The answer being, nothing. He was already doing it. "So, Michael, are you going to show me a picture of this partner of yours?" 

"Oh, of course." He began to reach into his pocket, stopping when Maria made a 'Cut!' motion. 

"I'll get the framed one. It's bigger," she explained before leaving the room. 

At Mimi's confusion, Michael clarified, "She sweet-talked an extra print off a music photographer who was covering the tavern on a night Alex was playing." 

"I see," she smiled, a teasing note in her voice. 

He tilted his head. "What?" 

"I find it interesting Maria thought it would be an appropriate Christmas gift, is all." 

"Oh, Mom, you didn't see him at the beginning of the month when Alex was away. The pining!" Maria clutched her chest once Mimi had taken the frame. 

Michael scowled. "Excuse me for missing my boyfriend while he was out of town." 

"You were full-on moping, Michael, the likes of which Izzy hadn't seen since you were fifteen or so." She ruffled his hair, in the way she knew he found soothing, and begrudgingly, Michael settled. 

"Just for that, I'll put on a mope show the likes of which you've never seen, starting tomorrow." 

Maria laughed, "Bring it on."

"Where is Isobel, anyway?" Mimi enquired. 

"Baby," Michael answered succinctly, only to be swatted by Maria.

"Shireen brought her friends, you know, the ones who just had a baby? Their family is in northern Ontario and they didn't want to do that drive with a newborn, plus Em is still recovering herself, so I said they should come here."

"Two-week-old babies are scary small," Michael opined. 

"Well, this one is now out like a light and drooling on Isobel's silk blouse," Maria grinned. She pointed at her mother. "Don’t go asking the obvious." 

"I wasn't going to," Mimi replied, tranquil. "It's nice for the parents to get a little break." 

"It is," she agreed, and went back to her baking. 

"It's a good photo, huh?" Michael smiled as Mimi returned her attention to the black frame in her hands. 

"It is. He's very striking, isn't he, with those lovely cheekbones?" 

"Yeah," he agreed, pleased that she thought so, even if it didn't actually matter. "His mom was indigenous, part of the Mi'kmaq people. He favours her." 

"Was?" she glanced up at him. 

"She died when he was in high school. Alex was a surprise late baby; he's got a nephew with a kid older than Isobel's new friend." That was about the limit of what personal information Michael was comfortable handing out about Alex's family, even to his own. 

Mimi was nodding, though, like it fit with whatever she saw in the photograph. "Big family, but spent a lot of time alone." 

"Something like that." He wasn’t surprised when she set the frame aside and took his hand, resting it palm up between hers. 

Michael had no idea what she looked for, or how she interpreted whatever she saw. He'd told Mimi she was free to read him whenever she liked but he didn't want to know anything, a conviction he continued to hold despite her enigmatic little smile upon letting go of his hand. 

His pocket began to buzz and he pulled his phone out.

_Merry Christmas! Got a bit of time to myself, hour or two. Text me when it's okay to call you._

"Alex?" Mimi asked, and he nodded. 

"Yeah, he said he'd have a gap in activities in early afternoon. Do you mind if I...?" he addressed both women. 

"Go!" Maria gestured in the direction of the stairs. "I need Mom to help me with this part, anyway, so it's a good time." 

Michael submitted to another hug before grabbing the framed print and heading upstairs, giving the living room occupants a distracted wave on his way past and hearing Isobel say something about him expecting a phone call. He didn't stick around to catch the rest. 

Once in his borrowed bedroom, with the door locked against potentially inquisitive guests (aka the kids), Michael sent a reply. 

_Merry Christmas! Ready when you are._

A couple minutes later, the phone rang, and he answered with the same greeting, "Merry Christmas!" 

"To you, too, treasure," came Alex's voice, warm and smiling. "How's your day been so far?" 

"Pretty good. The house is filling up, and I just spent a while telling Maria's mother all about you." 

"Oh, so that's why my ears are burning," he teased. 

"Yep. Maria had said she introduced us. Which isn't untrue, I mean, she did tell me your name and that she thought you might be interested in men, and that definitely influenced my decision to go talk to you." He didn't have a chance to get apprehensive about Alex's reaction, because he was already laughing. 

"You just don't want to admit to anyone that you gave me your life story before your name, Mr Grad Student." 

"Well... yes," Michael grinned. 

"I'm fine with that revisionist history for public consumption. Hey, when do I get to call you Dr Grad Student, anyway?" 

The implied faith kept Michael's smile bright. "Uh, next fall, assuming things continue to go alright. I should be able to defend my thesis October or November ish?" 

"That soon? I always thought a PhD took years and years." 

"If you count from freshman year of undergrad, it does. But each level builds on the last, so the actual doctorate programme isn't too bad." 

"Okay, that's fair, yeah. It's not something I've really looked into." 

"Don’t worry, I'll tell you alllll about school, Alex," he teased, gratified when Alex laughed. "How's your day been, then? You said it was gonna be busy?" 

"Yeah. Brother Two and his brood were here for brunch, which was basically a late breakfast with booze. They left about a half hour ago. Dad's having a nap now, then we'll be heading to Brother One's in late afternoon for Christmas dinner." 

"A nap seems like a good idea," and possibly not for only the elder Manes, going by Alex's voice. Michael wasn't going to say that, though. "What about Brother Three?" 

"Oh that's lunch tomorrow, yeah. And then I'm spending the night at the Camerons', with Cam, Charlie, and Mrs C."

"So tomorrow evening for the first thing you actually want to do," he said bluntly. 

"Yeah," and Alex wasn't hiding the fatigue anymore; it washed through the single syllable with a sigh. "I'm going to have a catnap myself, but I wanted to talk to you first." 

"I miss you." No sense in holding it back. "Maria already teased me about moping so I warned her, I'm gonna go complete emo teenager on her tomorrow." 

Alex's laughter made Michael smile. "If I'd known you were doing that, I would've made you a playlist." 

"I'm sure your Spotify has something appropriate," he teased, happy when Alex laughed again. 

"I'll look later and send you a link to the best match," he chuckled. 

"Perfect," he grinned, free hand pressed over the warmth blooming in his chest. "Aren't you going to see your mother's family, too? Or am I misremembering?" 

"No, I am, day after tomorrow. I'll head up to my cousin's in the afternoon, stay two nights, then come back here in time for dinner with Dad and my brothers. After that, overnight with Cam again, and, back to the airport." 

"Jesus, that's a packed schedule." Especially since travelling tired him out to begin with. Michael revised his vague thoughts about New Year’s Eve; after this week, Alex might not be awake to ring in the new year. 

"It just kind of accumulated. I already had to poke holes to get enough time with Cameron. Nobody seems to care that much when I'm a full day's drive away but put me in arm's reach and suddenly I'm popular," he complained, shading petulant in the way that came with exhaustion. 

"You _are_ tired," Michael observed. 

"I am," Alex admitted with a soft chuckle. "And I'm a little annoyed by how much, but, such is life." 

"I should let you go, get some ---"

"No, no," Alex interrupted. "Talking to you is like getting a little infusion of your energy." 

"Oh," he breathed. 

"I miss you too, you know." Afternoon though it might be, his voice was quiet, intimate, the same as when they spoke late at night. 

"Yeah," because he did know. 

"Do you have your earbuds on you?" 

"Uh-huh, on the night table. Why?" he enquired as he reached for them. 

"Oh, you're in the guest room right now? I didn't realise. That's perfect." 

"For what? 'Cause I gotta warn you, even though I locked the door ---"

"Not for phone sex, Michael," he chuckled. "I'm not in the mood, either." 

"Okay, then what am I doing?" He put the buds in and plugged in the lead, smiling when Alex's voice was right there. He'd have to remember to always use earbuds. 

"Navigate to your music download folder. I put something in there." 

"You broke into my phone to add music?" he teased.

"Your PIN wasn't hard to get from watching you type it. You should switch to fingerprint ID. It'd be more secure." 

Michael laughed. "You are off the clock, you know, and nobody watches me like you do. What's the name of the song I'm looking for here?" 

"It's called ELT. I'm going to hang up so you can listen to it; text me when you're ready for me to call you back." 

That was definitely mischief Michael could hear and warily he agreed, "I'll talk to you in a few, then." 

He located the song. Under two minutes. Some kind of old school punk ditty? The artist was listed as AM - obviously Alex, but why not his full name like usual? 

Twenty seconds in, Michael had all those answers, as the sound of laughter layered over the synthesiser, swelling to a crescendo that faded out into a barely there chuckle he felt in his toes. 

ELT. The evil laugh track he'd been ribbing Alex about for ages. Alex had actually recorded it for him. 

Michael listened to it again, beyond delighted with the gift, before he sent a quick text and answered the phone a moment later. "It's amazing, I _love_ it!" 

"I didn't know how it would turn out but it was fun to do," his smile was clearly audible. 

"I know I kept saying it, but I honestly never expected you to do it, let alone spend this kind of time on it! Thank you." 

"My pleasure, Michael." He yawned, wide enough for Michael to hear his jaw crack. "Fuck, I wanted to talk more but I need to catch some zees. I'll text you when I get in tonight, see how I'm feeling then and what you're up to?" 

"Sounds good," he agreed, relieved he didn't need to poke Alex into a nap after all. "Sleep well and I'll talk to you tonight." 

"Later." 

Michael felt bereft for a minute after Alex hung up, the sense of his absence sharpened by the silence. Then he cued up the track and listened to it again, letting it play on loop until he felt settled enough to leave the room and rejoin the group downstairs. 

There was still merriment to be made with his extended family. 

[end chapter thirteen]


	14. Leave-giving

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I discovered that "Alternate Universe - Canada" is an actual canonical tag that exists, and have now added it to all three fics. I can't tell you how much that makes me laugh! It never occurred to me to look for that.   
~ Tas

"Hey, Michael!" 

It wasn't quite a shout, just loud enough to catch his ear and make him turn around, to see a familiar man jogging towards him, blue scrubs bare of the usual white lab coat. 

"Dr Valenti, hi. Mer-I mean, happy holidays." 

Kyle laughed as he drew even with Michael in the corridor. "Merry Christmas to you, too. Are you working over the holidays?" 

"A little bit," he admitted. "Checking on a collaborative project, since the other person is in today. What about you? Stuck here as the newest resident?" 

"Nah, I volunteered. My mom's a cop, so we agreed a few years ago that we'd celebrate in January." 

"That's cool," Michael smiled, meaning it. 

"It works well for us. Listen, I'm about to grab lunch in the cafeteria. Why don't you join me?" 

The offer seemed sincere enough, but, "The cafeteria?" he asked doubtfully. 

"Okay, that tone? Tells me you've never eaten there. Come on," he gestured at Michael to accompany him as he began to walk. "My treat, in case you hate it." 

Michael shrugged. It wasn't like he had anything better to do, and he was curious about the friendliness. "Lead the way." 

The expected experience changed after Michael picked up a tray and followed Kyle to the hot food station, to find it was a stir-fry on the spot: rice or noodles with whichever fresh vegetables, meat, and sauce one chose from the options. His mouth dropped open. "I stand corrected." 

"Sometimes it's Italian, with pasta, sometimes Asian like today, sometimes Indian... It's always good, though." 

They each ordered what they wanted, grabbing beverages while the food cooked, then Kyle flashed his hospital ID and paid before they found a table. 

After a few bites, Michael commented, "You were right, I was wrong, and why the hell didn't anybody tell me about this before? Even without the employee discount, it's a decent price." 

"I'm guessing they thought you already knew. I've only been here a few weeks, so it's all shiny and new still," he smiled. 

"Good point. Thanks for lunch and the intel, anyway." 

"That's such an Alex thing to say." 

"What, intel?" At the nod, Michael chuckled, "It's crept into my vocabulary." 

"It's funny how words do that. Speaking of, is he working too, or actually taking down time?" 

"Neither. He's doing the family tour in Nova Scotia. I don't think the itinerary had room for down time," he said dryly. 

"Ah." One word and a sympathetic grimace, and Michael knew Kyle understood the obligation part of the trip, same as he had. It occurred to him that Kyle might have met some of Alex's family when they'd been living together - his dad, probably, if no one else. It was a weird thought. 

"Cam and Charlie are both home, though, so Alex was excited about seeing them," he offered, not entirely sure where the impulse to share was coming from. 

"Oh yeah? Sweet. I liked Cameron. I think she's the most dudebro woman I've ever met," Kyle chuckled. 

"I haven't met her yet, but the impression I have is, if you repackaged the attitude in femme, you'd get my sister." It still made him laugh, partly because he was unlikely to have to deal with them simultaneously. 

"Oh, so you're used to fierce women," he teased, or at least, that was what it sounded like he was doing. 

"Lifelong experience," Michael agreed. He finished the last of his stir-fry and put his fork down, tilting his head, curious. "What are we doing here, Valenti?" 

Unruffled, Kyle wiped his mouth with a napkin. "Getting to know each other, I hope. Alex is my friend, and you're his boyfriend, so I'd like for us to be friends, too." 

It was so... guileless, was what Michael kept thinking. But he really did seem sincere, and it wasn't outside the realm of possibility that Kyle Valenti was as straightforward as he appeared to be. 

In fact, it occurred to Michael now, it was even likely Kyle was that straightforward, because they had Alex in common. And Michael knew Alex appreciated plain honesty. Maybe he always had. 

"Fair enough," he said aloud. "I'm here every other Wednesday afternoon, starting up again week after next, so if you're around, we could do this again, now that I know it's worth eating here." He'd pay for himself going forward, but it didn't feel like that would be a battle. 

"Sounds good. Do you want to give me your number?" 

Michael took the phone Kyle passed to him, intending to do the usual, when he hesitated, remembering the way Alex had taken his hand when they'd run into Kyle at the restaurant - for stability, he'd said later. Remembering some of Alex's reticence, and the rare peeks at a lack of confidence in some things that seemed like they intersected with his prior romantic relationship with Kyle. 

Remembering Alex asking if Michael thought Kyle would be worth kneeling for. 

He smiled and handed the phone back without entering any information. "I'll ask Alex to send you my details." 

"Is that a rule or something?" Kyle wanted to know, but Michael was already shaking his head. 

"Not at all. It's just that you two have history, and I don't want to make him uncomfortable, or make him or me feel like I'm going behind his back on anything. And giving you my number without talking to him first makes _me_ uncomfortable," he explained, watching Kyle relax. 

"As long as you're sure it isn't ---"

"Please," Michael interrupted, rolling his eyes. "He'll probably laugh it off before I'm even done telling him about it. This has to do with how _I_ feel." 

"Okay," he nodded, appearing to accept that at face value. "I can understand that." 

"Good." 

Something at Kyle's waist began to beep and he swore, pulling out the pager enough to switch off the alarm. "Shit, I gotta go. Thanks for keeping me company," he spoke as he rose to his feet. "Tell Alex I said hi and I hope to see either or both of you soon." 

"Will do," Michael nodded, and watched him rush off. 

The encounter stayed with him the rest of the day. He left the lab earlier than he'd planned to, picking up Thai food on the way home and wielding his chopsticks in front of a movie on TV. Mindless entertainment at its finest. 

When his phone buzzed, Michael texted Alex back immediately and grabbed his earbuds, flopping lengthwise on the couch to answer the call. "Hey." 

"Hey yourself. I'm guessing you did relocate to your apartment, given your speed?" His smile was audible and Michael found himself mirroring it. 

"Yeah. Iz and I started sniping at each other yesterday, so it was time. We can't manage a whole week together anymore without someone getting homicidal," he chuckled. "Although I'm not sure we ever could, really, we just didn't have a choice as kids." 

Alex echoed the laugh. "It's been long enough since you had to, best not to push it now." 

"Exactly." He could hear music and voices, muffled behind Alex. "You at a party?" 

"Kind of - the party came to me. Yesterday was nice and leisurely after I got here, and I was actually in bed by, like, nine. Today has been sort of a drop-in thing, people coming to say hi, and once it got to dinnertime, they just stopped leaving." He laughed and it sounded relaxed to Michael, in a way Alex hadn't since he'd left. "I snuck away for a bit to call you." 

"Thanks for texting me when you got there. I know it was probably overkill, but..." 

"But I don't drive much in Toronto and you like knowing I'm safe. I get it, Michael, and I don't mind." 

"Okay," relief washing through him. "I'm glad you got some good sleep." 

"I did indeed. You go into the lab today or just chill?" 

Michael scoffed, "Me, chill?" Alex's laughter rewarded him and he continued, "I went in. And then I went to the hospital because one of my project partners was in, and... I ran into Kyle. We ended up getting lunch in the cafeteria." 

"Oh yeah? I guess he had a short holiday then." 

He couldn't detect anything unusual in Alex's tone. "He said he and his mother do Christmas in January instead." 

"Huh, yeah, she's police, so they'd both be in demand over the festive period. His dad died a few years ago. Maybe it makes it easier to keep busy and celebrate later," he speculated. 

"Maybe. I obviously didn't ask. But, um, I did tell him I'd ask you to send him my contact details. He says he wants to be friends?" Uncertainty coloured every word. 

"That, sounds like Kyle, honestly. Are you worried about him in some way? Does he make you uncomfortable?" he asked, clearly concerned. 

"Not exactly? I just... He's so _nice_. It doesn't feel real." 

Alex laughed. "Yeah, no, I know what you mean, and he actually is that nice. It can take a bit of getting used to, but I promise, it's genuine." 

"And you don't mind? If I spend time with him?" 

"I trust you, Michael. Spend time with whoever you want to. You don't need to check with me; I hope you know that," he spoke gently, and it reassured Michael. 

"I do, I do know that, but, I don't know, it felt different, you know, with your history and all. I wanted to ask first." He still didn't quite get the impulse. 

"That's okay. If you feel like you want my permission, I'm happy to give you that, Michael. Are _you_ all right with me texting your number to Kyle?" 

"Yes," he murmured, and it was like a band loosening around his chest that he hadn't been fully aware existed. "He's right, I mean, the two of you are friends, so it'd be good if he and I could be at least friendly, as long as it's okay with you." 

"It's completely okay with me," Alex confirmed, and Michael finally relaxed, hearing his surety. 

"Thank you." 

"Of course. When I get back, it seems we should talk about permissions and stuff, eh? I expected it to come up at some point; didn't know if it'd be you or me needing it first, though." 

"I guess that's your experience and my lack thereof talking, 'cause I sure as hell didn't expect it!" 

The soft chuckle made him smile. "It's one of those things that's really hard to talk about in the abstract. For me, anyway." 

"You're welcome for making it concrete," Michael smirked, grinning when Alex laughed. 

"Only two more sleeps, and then I'll be home, treasure," warmth and longing in equal measure pouring over Michael from the voice in his ears. 

"Still gonna text me when you get back to your dad's tomorrow, and when you leave for the airport the day after?" He couldn't help the wistful tone. Two sleeps felt like a long time yet. 

"I will," he promised. "Still going to pick me up at Toronto International?" 

"I am. Maria said it was fine to keep her car a couple of days, so it's good that you got the week visitor's pass." In the absence of anything else to hold, his fingers interlaced over his chest, careful not to knock the phone where it lay just below the hollow of his throat. "You should go back to the party, Alex." 

"Yeah," he sounded reluctant, too. "I'll let you know if there are any weather delays." 

"Good. Have a fun night." He didn't remind Alex he had the flight number and could look it up. 

"Thanks. Bye." 

"Bye." 

Michael pulled the earbuds out when the line went dead but otherwise didn't move, replaying the conversation in his head purely for the remembered sound of Alex's voice. 

Then he levered himself to his feet, turned the TV off and the stereo on, and went into the kitchen to do the few dishes that had accumulated his first day home. Much as it might feel like it at times, life didn't stop just because his boyfriend was in a different province. 

[end chapter fourteen]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sick Kids is an extraordinary place. I've known a few people who worked in the building, medical and otherwise, and I used to go to the allergy shop there, since it was a lot harder to find "free from" foodstuffs 20 years ago. I'm not sure if the stir-fry station memory is accurate anymore, but the cafeteria was somewhere I did preferentially eat when I was in the area! 
> 
> And yes, Michael's feelings and choices here will be explored onscreen, in case you were wondering or also confused about the whys.  
~ Tas


	15. Carry Me Home

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content warning for discussion of a parent's ill health. And explicit sexual content, but hey, ain't that what you're here for? ;-)  
Also, this brings the series to just over 78k words. To think I thought it'd be a one-shot...  
~ Tas

Michael drove right past him the first time. He circled around with the other cars, coming back to the passenger pick-up area outside Arrivals, and this time he spotted Alex, standing closer to the curb now with two suitcases lined up behind him.

He pulled into the closest available space and got the trunk open as Alex wheeled over the cases. "Sorry, I didn’t catch that was you, with the giant extra."

"Yeah, I figured," and the fatigue in Alex's voice had Michael looking at him closely, instead of the luggage.

"You okay?" He took the larger case, stowing it, and fit the smaller one alongside, giving Alex space to answer the question.

"I'm okay. I'm just tired."

"Did you and the Camerons pull an all-nighter or something?" The slam of the trunk lid echoed in the open air.

"No, there was a change in plans; something happened." Off Michael's expression, he added hastily, "No one died."

"Alex, man, there are entire universes between partying too hard with your friends, and being exhausted from some undisclosed situation which was obviously difficult but at least nobody died."

A wet laugh preceded Alex pulling him in for a hug, his nose cold against Michael's neck. "I missed your lack of bullshit."

If that didn't tell him most of what he needed to know about Alex's family… "C'mon, let’s get you home."

Michael stayed quiet until back onto the main road, the twisting lanes and unpredictable drivers around the airport requiring his full attention. Then he glanced at Alex, slumped in the passenger seat. "I picked up some groceries, if you're hungry, or we could hit a drive-thru."

"I could really go for a grilled cheese. Or some other kind of sandwich; I'm pretty sure you got bread." He sent Michael an amused half smile. "And a shower."

He chuckled. "Okay, well, you go shower when we get in, I'll make you a sandwich, and we can talk then. Sound good?"

Alex reached over to squeeze his thigh. "Sounds perfect."

Which was how Michael found himself trying not to get oozing cheese all over the pan before he got it onto a plate while Alex got his clothes and crutches on.

Plate and a napkin at the ready, he got two mugs of freshly brewed coffee, too, deflecting the eyebrows with, "It's decaf. You need a nap."

That pulled a gentle laugh and the sound made Michael's heart sing. "You’re taking care of me today, huh?"

"I am," Michael confirmed. He nodded pointedly at the hot food, gratified when Alex picked up one half and began eating. Michael let him, sipping at his coffee quietly, content to wait until Alex was ready to tell him what was going on.

When he'd finished, Alex offered, "My dad had a fall and broke his hip, while I was at my cousin's. My brothers decided to wait until I got back to tell me, which is fine, I mean, it's not like there was anything I could do. And he's okay, just needs surgery. It's pretty routine."

"He's getting near eighty, right?"

"Yeah." He took a gulp of coffee and leaned back with a sigh. "What I didn't know is that my brothers had been trying to convince him to move in with one of them, and then I was back living there after my injury so they let it slide. But I know now I'm definitely not going back for more than a visit, so with him falling, they're going to get him to sell the house." His eyes were faraway. "Cam and Charlie came over and helped me sort through a lot of the crap in my room. The small stuff I wanted to keep, clothes and memorabilia mostly, that's what's in the big suitcase. The bigger stuff, I'll have to go back and figure out how to get it here and where to put it once I do. I know I want my mother's secretary desk; it's been in my room since she died. I'm not sure about other stuff yet. I'll have some decisions to make."

"That sounds hard." Michael couldn't really imagine what it would feel like. He hadn't been attached to any of his childhood furniture (all firmly his parents' style) and he'd dealt with most of his other belongings while at UNM - three hours away wasn't that far, and he'd popped home regularly. He had stuff he was attached to now, but he wouldn't have to move it because of family illness or anything like that. Isobel had a clause in her will leaving him the building, separate from her shared assets with Maria, in case the worst happened.

"It wasn’t fun, and it won't be any more fun when I go back, but we all agreed there wasn't any point in me staying just for that." He shrugged, giving Michael a wan smile. "Life happens."

"It does," he agreed. Michael set his mug aside and glanced meaningfully at the empty plate. "Naptime?"

That earned him a smile, and then Alex reached out, curling a hand around the back of Michael's neck and bringing him in for a brief kiss, resting his forehead against Michael's afterwards, his eyes closed. "Thank you."

"Anytime." He kissed Alex's cheek once released, putting the dishes in the sink while Alex made his way to the bed and slumber. 

Some hours later, Michael heard signs of life in the corner and headed over as Alex sat up and reached for the water on the night table, guzzling near half before he recapped the bottle and tilted it towards Michael. "Thank you." 

Last words before sleeping and first upon waking; noticing it generated warmth in Michael's stomach. He perched sideways on the edge of the bed, twisting to keep Alex in view. "You're welcome. How you feeling?" 

"Better," said in a long exhale that made Michael grin. 

"You look it. You were kind of grey earlier." 

"I don't doubt it," Alex smiled. His nose wrinkled as he sniffed. "What am I smelling?" 

"Oh, I made lasagne." 

Alex gave him a skeptical look. "That does not smell like Italian food." 

"It's not, not really," he shrugged. "More like, enchiladas in lasagne form? It's my mom's recipe, one of my favourites as a kid." 

"Okay, that goes with what my nose is saying. It sounds interesting," his tone was cautious and Michael laughed. 

"You can try some and if you hate it, I will happily eat the entire damned pan, believe me." 

Echoing his laugh, Alex agreed, "That's fair." He glanced at the alarm clock, numbers glowing in the darkened room, and sighed. "I don't know what plans you ended up making for tomorrow night, but I don't think I'm going to be up for a party. Is it too late to cancel?" Guilt flavoured his words and Michael wasn't having it. 

"As it happens, the only place I checked before Christmas was where I went last year, because it was fun and not too extortionate, but they were sold out of tickets already. I guess everyone else had a good time, too," he smiled. "Then when we talked on the 25th and you told me about your schedule, it didn't seem like a party was going to be a good idea after all that, so I switched gears." 

"What does that mean, switched gears? Not to an outdoor event, I hope!" 

"No, when you said the only way you'd freeze your balls off at Nathan Phillips Square for New Year’s was if they were paying you to play on stage, I took it seriously," Michael teased, grinning when Alex snorted and rolled his eyes. "Not outdoors, right here. Had you opened your fridge, you would have seen the bottle of bubbly chilling, and there's a couple of fancy finger food platters jammed in there, too. Plus other stuff, you know, besides my mom's southwest fusion lasagne that you might hate."

He watched Alex absorb the information and shake his head with a rueful smile. "You've stocked everything up so I don't have to leave the apartment for a few days, is that it?" 

"Yeah," Michael confirmed bluntly. "That's it exactly." He held Alex's gaze, a slight challenge in his own to counteract the protests he could see brewing, and finally Alex sighed, smiling. 

"All right. Thank you, again. I seem to be saying that a lot today." 

"I like it when you do," he confessed. 

"Manners appreciation?" Alex chuckled. 

"That too, but, if you're saying thanks, it means you let me do something for you, and that's what I like." It felt like a lot to admit to, and Michael searched Alex's face for a reaction, eyes moving in quick flickers now instead of a steady stare. 

"Michael," he spoke so, so softly, then twisted to set down the water bottle before beckoning. "Come here, treasure." 

Crawling across the bed, Michael found himself pulled in tight for a kiss, Alex claiming his mouth in a way he only now realised how much he'd missed. He melted against Alex's chest, heedless of the awkward position and the bedding bunched in between them, simply luxuriating in the taste and feel of Alex's lips. 

When Alex let him up for air, he murmured, "I'm not always going to be gracious about it, but I do appreciate it nonetheless." 

"Good thing I still like you when you're a grumpy bitch," Michael winked, both pleased and relieved when Alex laughed. 

"And it's a good thing I like you when you're mouthy! Now, though," he paused to nibble on Michael's lower lip, teeth careful on the delicate skin. "I want you to strip and come back to bed." 

Michael scrambled backwards as soon as Alex let him go, whipping his sweatshirt off as he stood. He moved away to deposit it onto the nearby dresser, the rest of his clothes soon joining the neatly folded pile. Then he turned, to see the covers shoved down to the bottom of the mattress and Alex stretched nude on the pale sheets, watching him. 

Michael smirked and spread his hands, inviting Alex to look his fill as he took the few steps to the bed. He lifted one knee, intending to climb onto the bed, and then Alex extended his hand palm out, a signal to stop. It confused Michael a little but he obeyed, standing tall with both feet on the floor. 

All Alex did then was look. Openly. Obviously. His gaze roamed over Michael's body, seeming to catalogue each inch of bare skin. Michael felt a kick in his heart rate, a hitch in his breath; the prickle of heat spreading over his face and down to his upper chest. The pulse of arousal as his cock stiffened under the deliberate appraisal. He held as still as he could, save for the visible effect of his lungs' work, offering himself to the hunger he could feel with each sweep of dark eyes. 

This time, when Alex lifted his hand, he crooked a finger. "Come." Michael felt his cock twitch at what could have been a different kind of command, thinking that this man might someday have that kind of power over him, so that a single word could be enough to compel a conditioned response from his body, for no reason other than because Alex wanted it. The idea scared and attracted him as he crawled across the bed again, naked and needing. 

Alex drew him down and the full body contact, skin to skin, pulled a shocked moan from Michael's throat, echoed in Alex's soft laugh. "I know. You feel so good. So good, Michael," and he couldn't answer that verbally, his mouth taken and his words silenced by a fervent kiss. 

They ended up tangled together with Alex sprawled on top, just kisses and caresses for a long time, until Michael almost felt drugged, every sense humming with Alex. Finally Alex did roll away, to reach into the night table drawer. 

Rolling back, though, he stopped with his ass pressed to the side of Michael's hip, and Michael shifted to accept the supplies handed to him over the shoulder Alex lowered so he could see Michael. "Does this mean what I think it means?" Michael asked, his smile teasing. "It wasn't practical before you travelled so you want it now?" 

"Yes," Alex answered, clear and direct, the easy admission slamming into Michael's libido. "I want you to fuck me. Right like this." 

Michael had to kiss him for that and Alex let him. When Michael lifted his head, he said quietly, "I have one condition." 

He watched Alex's eyebrows go up but only to the 'curious' range, his expression otherwise calm. "What's that, then?" 

"I prep you until _I_ feel you're ready. I know that's gonna be longer than you usually like, but you're tense, even after sleeping," he explained carefully. 

"That's fair. It needs to be comfortable for both of us." He frowned. "It hasn't been a problem before, has it?" 

Michael had started shaking his head when the frown had appeared. "No. No, it's been the opposite of a problem. Normally I enjoy how impatient you get, especially since it's such a contrast to how patient you are with me. I'm just, not in the right mental space for that today, is all." 

"Okay," and Michael smiled at the uncomplicated acceptance in the reply. "You know my patience with you is an illusion, right? It's all about me getting what I want, and you start giving me that as soon as I touch you, with your honest reactions. I don't have to wait, so I don't get impatient." 

"Noted," Michael chuckled. "I like it, whatever you want to call it." 

"Me too," Alex agreed, smiling. "So, today, you take as much time as you feel is appropriate, and if I complain, just remind me that I said you could." 

That called for a kiss and a laugh, then Michael chose to squash the flippant comments that came to mind and lube up his fingers instead, his mood shifting quickly back to arousal as Alex hooked his left leg around Michael's thighs, the position opening his body to Michael's touch. He reached between them to press one slick finger inside, catching Alex's eye roll at his caution before Michael angled to kiss him and hopefully distract him from the slower pace. 

Michael did, indeed, take his time, finding it almost meditative to work Alex open in slow degrees. He was pretty sure this wasn't what most would consider mindfulness but it fulfilled a similar role for him as he traded lazy kisses with Alex and listened to his quiet sighs. And once underway, Alex seemed to relax into it; Michael wasn't getting any 'hurry up' vibes, even as he added a third finger but otherwise kept to the same languid rhythm. 

After a couple of minutes, Michael altered his hand position. The angle wasn't great, but if he held steady and bent his knuckles a little, he might be able to... "Fuck," Alex blurted against his lips, and Michael smirked. Got it.

He proceeded to rub his knuckles lightly over Alex's prostate, listening a tad smugly as the tenor of those soft noises changed, grew sharper, needier; he mirrored each sound, sharing the ramp up of desire. 

"I'd forgotten how intense that could be," Alex confessed, a little breathless.

"Maybe you could slow down more often, let me take care of you," he teased. 

"Maybe," he allowed, arching with a groan. "Michael, are... are... ah, fuck ---"

"Don’t you dare say, 'Are we there yet?'," Michael growled. 

A hard shudder ran through Alex's body, and a sound almost like the crackle of static exited his throat. Michael froze, alarmed, then realised the weird noise was from Alex laughing so hard he was nearly silent. He relaxed, grinning, while Alex made several attempts to get his runaway giggles under control, until Alex was laying with his eyes closed and his hand pressed over his chest, panting. Michael remained quiet throughout, not wanting to add further fuel; he knew what it was like to be tired to the point of hilarity and he suspected that once they were done here, Alex would probably go right back to sleep. 

Once Alex's breathing approached normal, Michael withdrew his fingers and watched as long eyelashes fluttered open, gaze finding his. "Does that mean you think I'm ready?" 

"It does," he confirmed. "Now that you aren't gasping like a beached fish." 

Alex chuckled. "Fair. Get a condom on." 

He did as he was told, pressing into Alex's body to the accompaniment of perhaps the most satisfied moan he'd ever heard. "You weren't kidding about wanting it." 

"I was not, fuck." He pushed back against Michael, emitting another such moan. "You know how when you're really craving something, and you finally get it, it's that much sweeter? Like, there's the normal level of enjoyment of something you like, and then there's this whole other level because your body's been waiting for that exact thing?" 

"I know what you mean," Michael smiled. "I don't think anyone has, like, craved my cock before, though." He was going to brush it off with a laugh when Alex spoke again. 

"Then you haven't been fucking the right people, treasure." 

He was serious and Michael responded in kind, "I guess not. They weren't you." A beautiful smile lit Alex's face and Michael bent to kiss him, beginning to move his hips. A few thrusts had him saying, "I'm not going to be able to fuck you very hard like this, though." 

"I know. I have a plan for that." 

"Of course you do," Michael rolled his eyes. "Care to share?" 

"Uh-huh," his smile was devilish and Michael had to admit, if only to himself, he'd missed that playful mischief. "Push in all the way and hold there." 

"O-kay," he elongated the syllables, confused but willing as he followed the order. "Now what?" 

"Now, you stay flush with me like that while you jerk me off. Then you fuck me." 

While he was oversensitive from orgasm. It made sense, with Alex's preferences, and Michael snorted a laugh. "Alright. I do have a question, though: what happens if I come, too? I haven't tried anything like this before." He was pretty good at holding out, but enough for this endeavour? He had no idea, and he needed to not let Alex down; that need gave him the courage to ask the question in the first place. Better to know where the lines were. 

"Mm, then you can fuck me with a toy until you're hard again." He pulled Michael down for a sweet kiss. "I know I'm asking a lot, but I'm not setting you up to fail, Michael, I promise. I just want you the way that I want you." 

He smiled. "Kind of feeling like this is a lesson in being careful what you wish for, off me saying I like doing things for you." 

"Not on purpose," Alex grinned. "I want you, is all." 

It didn't get much clearer and Michael nodded, reaching around to wrap still-slick fingers around Alex's erection, beginning to stroke as Alex managed to get a hand in Michael's hair and drag him into kissing distance. 

It wasn't the best handjob he'd ever given. His rhythm kept wavering as Alex squirmed and sighed and kissed him, and Michael tried his best to stay glued to him. He was dimly aware Alex was getting off on how difficult it was for Michael, at least as much as from the direct physical stimulation, and that made him feel better about the amount of effort it was taking. 

When Alex hit the point of no return, Michael felt it with his cock first as muscles clamped tight and he whined, pulling his mouth away from Alex's to rest on his shoulder as Alex moaned, then the jerk and pulse against his palm and the feel of warm liquid, and Michael breathed, clinging to his bodily control, chanting to himself. _Don't come. Don’t come. Don’t come._

By the time Alex stirred and asked, "Michael?", the near overload of sensation had backed off and Michael was able to flatten his damp hand low on Alex's abdomen and begin to move his hips. Shallow, uncertain thrusts at first, evening out as he found a movement that worked. 

He kept his mouth pressed to Alex's shoulder, unable to deal with kisses, too. Not now. 

The hand in his hair tugged and petted, and a pleased voice spoke close to his ear, "Oh, very good, Michael. God, that's fucking perfect." 

Words blurred after that, indistinguishable from the soft moans, all of it a little rain of praise that spurred him to continue to hold on, to fuck, to give Alex exactly what he wanted; to make his boyfriend sound like _that_, pleasure-drenched and happy. 

At length Michael felt the brush of a hand across the back of his, his brain eventually supplying the information that it was Alex jerking himself off. He sort of knew that meant some time had passed but he had no room for clocks or chronology in his service bubble. He would be finished when Alex said he was. 

His conviction became almost impossible to keep with Alex's second orgasm and Michael sucked hard on the skin in his mouth, whimpering continuously, locked into the cycle of fucking Alex. Permission arrived in the form of a sharp tug on his hair, verging on painful, to make sure of his attention, followed by short, specific instructions. "Come for me, Michael. Now." 

Letting go enough to get there was its own process but he let his hips falter, understanding Alex didn't need that anymore, and the variation in stimulation was enough to break the spell and allow him release, pleasure roaring through his body as he spilled into the condom. 

The whimpers faded as he coasted to stillness and aftershocks, his mouth opening to release purpled skin as his whole body went limp. 

"Give me a sec," Alex told him, and Michael could feel fingers at the base of his cock, then the sheath of Alex's body slid forward and off, disconnected, and a moment later, the condom was gone, too, a light giggle in its wake and a complaint that sounded far too cheerful to be serious, "This part is a lot easier when it's my own dick." 

Michael moved as he was told, letting Alex clean him up, waiting for this moment with Alex back in the bed and in his arms, long musician's fingers stroking his face. He smiled, nuzzling into the gentle caress, his eyes locked on Alex's smile. 

"I'm going to be feeling that for a few days, treasure. You were so good for me. So good. And you're so far down I don't even know if I'm making any sense to you but I want to tell you anyway," he chuckled.

Michael reached out, wanting to touch the pretty smile, and detoured at the last second to drag his fingers through Alex's hair instead, remembering belatedly where the boundary had been established. 

"No, Michael, it's - it's okay," he murmured, catching Michael's hand and bringing it to his mouth, an echo of what he'd done all those weeks ago. This time, once he'd kissed the palm, Alex placed Michael's hand on his cheek, leaning into it as much as Michael had been. 

He tried to ask with his eyes, his lips and tongue uncooperative in this state, needing to understand this change. This permission Michael hadn't expected to ever be given. 

Perhaps his wordless pleading was clear, or maybe Alex simply expected the question because he laughed a little. "You're probably not going to retain this, but I'll explain it again later. It isn't... It's not that I don't like _anyone_ touching my face, it's just, it doesn't feel right unless it's someone I... Unless I feel..." he halted, groping for words, and Michael didn't have any to help right now. He waited patiently, and eventually Alex whispered, "I feel too much, being touched like this. It has to be the right person," and Michael understood. 

The intimacy of the caress, the vulnerability it seemed to induce; these were things Michael already knew Alex struggled with. And he'd known that lately, Alex had been choosing to be more open with Michael, to let him in further. 

To let Michael be the right person. 

Michael smiled, his fingers gliding over Alex's face with delicate care, accepting the gift given to him. He watched the way Alex's eyes darted about and his lips pursed, until he relaxed into the touch he'd both invited and allowed, and Michael cupped his cheek with infinite tenderness. 

God, he loved this man. He'd been trying not to think in those terms - it seemed too soon, too fast, despite what Maria had said about knowing - but there was really no getting around the facts. Michael didn't know if he was ready to say so yet, and he was grateful for the lingering haze of subspace that tangled his tongue and scrambled his speech; it meant he couldn't blurt it out accidentally upon naming it in his mind. 

But oh, it felt good to know.

[end chapter fifteen]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Over on Tumblr, I did a writing meme that yielded two tiny bits of this verse: 
> 
> [Backstory for Alex](https://tasyfa.tumblr.com/post/622399065246793728/oooooh-before-the-beginning-for-your-spinning)
> 
> [Alex POV on the streetcar ride to meet Isobel](https://tasyfa.tumblr.com/post/622462698687496192/how-bout-some-alex-pov-from-your-spinning-circle)
> 
> In case you're interested and not on Tumblr!


	16. Steadfast

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content warning for a minor anxiety attack.   
~ Tas

"So, you were going to tell me about Kyle." 

"What, now? You just finished channel flicking your way into deciding which New Year's Eve extravaganza to watch," Michael teased. 

"There's lots of time until the ball drops. I wanted to check that there hadn't been any last minute changes to the performance schedules from what was posted online." 

"I should have known it was a music thing," he grinned. "Talking about balls dropping makes me think of taking the family cat to get neutered." 

Alex laughed. "I can assure you, my balls are exactly where they were when we finally left the bed today." 

Looking over, Michael took in the way Alex had sprawled, half reclining on pillows with his left knee against the back of the couch, right knee pointed towards the coffee table, plate balanced between one hand and his chest. Alex hadn't bothered trying to do anything with his hair after showering and it stuck up in all directions, as casual as the rest of his body language. "I feel like I should check." 

An arched eyebrow gave way to an eye roll, and Michael smirked as Alex gestured at him, sighing, "Fine." 

Michael reached out towards Alex, hand dropping at the last moment to flatten on the couch instead, and he leaned down to nuzzle Alex's groin, hearing a soft laugh above him. He inhaled deeply, the scent of laundry detergent tickling his nose, and a hint of muskiness that had him pressing against the flesh concealed by fabric. 

"C'mon, sit up, before I throw a cheese triangle at you," Alex chuckled. 

He did, settling into a sprawl of his own just past Alex's foot and nodding at the plate. "Those are good, aren't they? Isobel told me where to get the frozen appetizers." 

"I figured," Alex smiled. "They are, yeah. All the cold stuff has been good, too. Thank you again." His smile became mischievous. "Feeding me doesn't get you out of talking about Kyle, though." 

"I wasn't actually trying to," he assured. "He did text me, by the way; hi and a very early happy new year - it was yesterday - and see me in a couple of weeks when I'm back at the hospital." 

"And how do you feel about that?" 

"Like, fine? I know you know, and he knows you know, so it feels okay now," he shrugged. "Still not sure exactly why it bugged me in the first place, buuut your face says you might?" 

"I did some thinking about it, yes," Alex agreed. "It was a lighter topic than the family stuff, right?" His smile wavered a little but he shook his head when Michael started to say something. "It's fine. I told you, where it isn't urgent, I am choosing to put that stuff on hold for a few more days, until I don't feel like I got hit by a truck so much. Right now, this is what's important. You and me." 

"Okay," he acquiesced, offering a small smile. 

"Okay," Alex echoed, more briskly. "This is - it's not a value judgement at all, simply a description, all right? But, would you say it's accurate to describe you, as a person, as someone who's talkative, passionate, and occasionally has poor impulse control?" 

A startled laugh burst out of Michael. "Uh, yeah. Yeah, that... that sounds like me." He glanced down as Alex pressed his toes against Michael's hip, seemingly in reassurance, then returned his attention to Alex's face when Alex continued speaking. 

"Okay, good. And would you agree that at some point in your life, you've been out with friends after a break-up, and someone confiscated your phone so you didn't drunk dial your ex?" 

Michael grimaced, pinching the bridge of his nose. "That’s a little close for comfort." Hearing Alex say 'your ex' discomfited him in particular; he didn't like having those concepts combined. 

"I know it's kind of awkward, sorry," Alex apologised. 

"Is there a reason you're bringing up the spectre of me drunk dialling?" he tried not to sound defensive, and thought he succeeded. 

"There is. I want you to think about how it made you feel, once you'd sobered up, that your friend had taken your phone." 

He sighed, casting his mind back. It'd been a while. "Grateful, I guess, and protected? Like, it was good to know they had my back." 

"Good, that's what I was hoping you'd say," relief bleeding through, and Michael frowned. 

"Do you think I would - that I _need_ backup impulse control around Kyle?" Only the fact Alex was already shaking his head kept Michael from feeling ill. 

"No. No, I absolutely do not," Alex rushed to emphasise as soon as Michael fell silent. "But I do think that _you_ might feel, underneath it all, happier with it in place. You said, before, that you had trouble with saying no in your early relationships, and this is a new situation, being around someone who feels like a dom but isn't your dom, and it seems to me that having that extra layer could help you feel safe, you know? Like I have your back even if I'm not there." 

Michael sat quietly, turning it over in his mind. It made sense. He did have that history. It had taken him time and work to be able to set and enforce boundaries for himself; years of it. Kyle did represent something new, in the way Alex had said and also in being Alex's ex. Maybe an unconscious need to keep Alex as an invisible barrier was what had made him hand back the phone and ask Kyle to go through Alex. 

He wasn't sure, though, because he just kept hearing the echo of Alex talking about breaking up, and drunk dialling, and was Alex meaning himself when he said being around a dom who wasn't Michael's.... It all blended into a dull roar of insecurity in his head that made it feel like something was sitting on his chest and he swallowed against the phantom sensation. He couldn't quite prevent his lips from trembling but he kept on swallowing, trying not to listen to the way the words wanted to taunt him. 

"Fuck." Almost inaudible yet heartfelt. The clatter of plate on table was louder, and then Alex sat up, shifting to put his back against the couch back and patting his thighs. "Come here, Michael. Please. Come here." 

The direct order cut through the miasma and Michael moved, silent, to straddle Alex's lap as he'd been told. When strong arms pulled him close, one hand gripping his nape, directing him, Michael went where he was put, pressing his face against the side of Alex's neck. 

The full body contact and the scent of Alex's skin slowed Michael's agitated breathing; the gentle drift of Alex's other hand over his spine helped him relax, tense muscles releasing until he slumped heavily against Alex's chest, the unwelcome litany in his brain fading into nothingness. 

At length Alex murmured, "I'm sorry," his hands tightening to keep Michael in place when he started to sit up. Michael didn't struggle, letting himself be held and soothed. "It had seemed like a good analogy, but, I stepped in it somewhere and I didn't mean to. I'm sorry." 

"Not your fault," Michael forced out. His throat was dry and tight, but it felt important to say. 

"No," he agreed, rueful. "No, I have enough triggers of my own to understand that. Still. I am sorry." 

"Stop apologising," he mumbled, gratified at the little laugh. 

"Okay. Let's just sit here a while, hm? Right like this." 

Michael made an agreeable noise, nodding into Alex's neck, and he could feel Alex relax, too, now, the tension in his frame dissipating as he stroked Michael's back, calming them both. 

Eventually, Michael slid his head back, closer to the point of Alex's shoulder, so his speech wouldn't be muffled. "I'm sorry, too. I probably should have stopped you once you'd mentioned impulse control. I don't - I'm not good at talking about that. It's a sore spot." 

"Yeah, I see that now." His tone was apologetic and Michael had the feeling Alex would have said sorry again if he hadn't been explicitly asked not to. "I, um, I could have presented that better. I tried to make it personal enough for you to understand the parallel I was trying to draw, and I think I went too far the other way." 

"You did," he confirmed; no point in trying to soften it now. "I thought, I thought you didn't trust me, to... then you were talking about doms who weren't mine and it all kinda started to blur and I-I-I-I-I," he had to pause, swallowing again to stave off the threat of tears, "I thought you were maybe trying to break up with me..." 

He damn near bounced off Alex's chest from the force of the quick, sharp inhale. "Oh, God, no, Michael, that is the last thing I want." The gentle hold transformed into a fierce hug, Alex wrapping him up tight. He sounded choked up, too, when he declared, "I don't ever want to lose you." 

"Okay," he whispered, burying his face in Alex's neck again, the band around his lungs easing at last. "Okay." 

Hard to tell how much time had passed when Michael stirred and sat up, Alex's arms loosening to permit the movement. Alex looked stricken yet, guilt and pain swirling in his eyes, and that wouldn't do. 

Michael pressed the softest of kisses to the compressed line of Alex's mouth, unsurprised at the lack of return pressure. "You alright?" 

"Are you?" 

"I'm better, yeah. I can be rational again." From the faint snort and tiny nod, he knew Alex understood what he meant. Michael pointed at his head. "Hamster's out of speed." 

Alex's eyebrows drew together, confusion layering over his expression. "What?" 

He huffed a laugh. "You're a computer guy, so I'm assuming you know that whole thing about brains having hamsters running on those wheels, right?" At the nod, Michael continued, "Well, I call mine Willie, and every now and then, something happens that feels like the little dude shot up and is sprinting his tiny heart out." He kept his tone light, leaning on humour as he so often did. He could see from the clearing fog that Alex had followed along, though he probably had questions. 

But all Alex asked was, "Willie?" 

"Yeah, uh, as in, the willies, you know? Uneasy, nervous, and so on." 

"Anxious," he named it quietly, nodding, one corner of his mouth quirking upwards. "That's a much friendlier conceptualisation than me and my demons."

Michael shrugged, smiling a little. "It works for me. That's what it's about, whatever works for you personally." 

"Yeah," Alex nodded. "Michael, I'm," he halted, obviously preventing himself from finishing the sentence with 'sorry', emitting a frustrated noise instead. "I think I haven't made it clear enough that I trust you. I've grown to trust you more and more with-with _me_, as we've gotten to know each other better, but I've trusted you to be mine and mine alone since you said you would be. I've never doubted that commitment." He paused, wetting his lips as he stared over Michael's shoulder. "I don't know if you're picking up on some of my insecurities, but they have nothing to do with your potential actions or anything like that. It's just my own shit. The important part is, I trust you. And if I've made you feel otherwise, then... well, then it was not intended." 

"I know you trust me. I do," Michael insisted. "I think you just hit one of my weak spots and it sent me off on my own insecurity spiral. And," he hesitated, unsure of how to explain what he meant. "I think, in this situation - me being around someone else I'm aware is a dom - I think I... I trust you trusting me, more than I trust myself directly. Does that make sense?" 

"Yes," the answer came immediately, along with a slight smile. "Yes, I know what that's like." 

"Which is basically what you were trying to say in the first place," Michael sighed. 

"More or less. I was thinking of it as more of a protective barrier, but the idea is similar," Alex agreed. He didn't look upset anymore but he wasn't happy, either. 

"Sooooo, you can be my dental dam," he tried a joke, pleased when Alex rolled his eyes, a chuckle escaping. 

"You are incorrigible." 

"So you keep saying," he smirked. "Admit it: you love it." The return volley was automatic, the words out before Michael even considered how they might sound.

"I do," Alex confirmed, raising a hand to trace over Michael's mouth with a fingertip. The touch was gentle, caring, and so, so welcome. His lips parted in invitation and Alex's hand slipped under Michael's chin, pulling him in for a barely-there kiss. 

When it ended, Michael opened his eyes and murmured, "Are we okay?" He was pretty sure they were, but he wanted the reassurance, or the chance to set things right if the answer was no. 

"Good on this end," Alex nodded once, his eyes searching Michael's. "You?" 

"Yeah," he whispered. He wanted to smooth out the vertical lines between Alex's eyebrows; they were very much present and Michael had the feeling that while the relationship might be fine after this little dust-up, Alex was still mired in self-recrimination. 

Then he remembered that he could, now, and brought his hands up, slowly enough that Alex could object if he wanted to, and placed the pads of both thumbs over those lines, gliding outward over the arch of each eyebrow. He smiled at Alex's chuckle and leaned in to kiss where his thumbs had begun, letting his palms settle under prominent cheekbones, thumbs drifting along those softened ridges as he tilted Alex's head and moved down to kiss his lips. 

Alex let him, but soon murmured, "Um, just one hand, okay? The double hold is a little..." 

"Claustrophobic," Michael finished, realising it even as Alex spoke. He slid one hand round to the back of Alex's head, threading his fingers through thick hair. "Better?" 

"That's good, yeah," and Alex kissed him, light and sweet. It felt precious, being allowed this; Michael remembered it hazily from last night, but he'd been grateful for the repeated explanation over breakfast, proving he hadn't imagined it. Now, fully lucid, he was able to appreciate the way Alex accepted the touch - not quite easily, not yet, but it was clear to Michael that he wanted to, from how he responded, and that was a lot. The trust of it. 

For a moment it made Michael angry with himself for getting lost earlier and making Alex feel like he'd done something wrong, when Michael was so very aware of each new door Alex trusted him to pass through. He tightened his grip on Alex's hair in instinctive reaction even as he let the burst of anger go, and then forgot about it entirely when Alex let out a moan that was half whimper, a sound Michael hadn't heard from him before. He drew back, curious. "From this?" he asked, repeating the tug. 

"Mm," Alex smiled. "I told you I liked having my hair pulled." 

"Yeah, but you didn't sound like that before." 

"Well, I was expecting it before, and then we both got distracted by your ass," he grinned. 

"True," Michael conceded. "So does that mean you controlled your reaction, because you expected it?" 

Alex gave him a quizzical look. "Yeah? Like I usually do? I'd never make it through a full scene otherwise." 

"Yeah, no, that makes sense. I guess I never really thought about, like, your kink for orgasm control and that being an all-parties deal."

He chuckled. "I don't know that I'm kinked for holding myself back, so much as it's necessary so that I can do all of what I want to before my focus narrows down to my own physical pleasure." 

"Like it did last night?" 

"Not exactly. Last night was, um," he blew out a breath and widened his eyes, incredulous. "Last night was, extraordinary. I really didn't expect you to make it past me coming. But you did, and then you got into a rhythm and I could tell you were totally lost in it and it was so fucking good. It was a pretty comfortable position, not too physically taxing, so I thought I'd enjoy it while it lasted, and," he shook his head with a low laugh. "Fuck, Michael, you were so gone on that final instruction that I thought it might take an act of God to bring you up enough to come. And when all it took was me telling you... I have to admit, I felt a little like a god." 

Michael's growing smile blossomed fully at the admission. "Yeah?" 

"Oh, yeah," he assured, brushing a kiss along the edge of Michael's lower lip, following his smile. "You were incredible." 

"I like when you take what you want like that," Michael confessed. "There's something deeply satisfying that kind of is and isn't about sex." He watched Alex smirk. "What?" 

"It's equally satisfying for me. Not just when I'm actively receiving pleasure from you like last night, but whenever you give way to me, or obey me, or let me touch and tease you until you're begging and crying," his voice dipped into gravel, sending heat flushing through Michael. "We are very complementary that way, treasure." 

"Yeah," he breathed. "Yeah, we are." What Alex had said was not only hot as fuck, but it explained why he held back his own reactions in favour of Michael's - why he wanted to. It was the flip side of why Michael sometimes didn't care whether he got to come, because it was about so much more than the purely physical. 

He lost his train of thought when Alex kissed him, hunger evident in the way his lips moved on Michael's, his tongue slipping inside. The whys didn't matter so much when he could feel Alex solid against him, arms holding him close as Michael offered himself up. 

Neither of them noticed when the clock struck midnight. 

[end chapter sixteen]


End file.
